


Mistletoe Season

by lordelannette



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Breeding, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christmas fic, Happy Ending, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Size Difference, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, Virgin Bucky, fast burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordelannette/pseuds/lordelannette
Summary: Christmas is here, and with it comes the long awaited return of Omega Bucky's twin sister, Becca. She's exactly what he needs in order to survive the holiday family madness that he just sometimes can't handle all by himself.That is, until he finds out her squad Captain is accompanying her home for the celebrations-- a Captain named Steve who happens to be incredibly hot, an unmated Alpha, and somehow manages to rock Bucky's entire goddamn world.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 223
Kudos: 1012





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So many people enjoyed reading my story called Ninety-Nine Problems that featured an Omega Bucky/Alpha Steve and I just wanted to do another short, fast burn fic just in time for the holidays :) 
> 
> This story will be done by Christmas with weekly updates.

Bucky

* * *

Somehow, against all odds, it’s possible to feel lonely in a room full of people he loves. 

He’s keeping himself busy-looking by adjusting the pine garland across the mantle of his childhood home. You see, busy-looking is a trick. A trick that he’s honed from childhood. It’s his way of hiding in plain sight. Because if he’s busy, or at least  _ looks  _ busy, people will leave him alone. At least for a while. 

Frank Sinatra croons in the background while Bucky places sprigs of holly berries, pine cones, and baby’s-breath evenly down the twelve foot garland. It has to be perfect. Not because anyone cares-- his large family isn’t concerned with the concept of perfection, far from it actually-- no, it needs to be perfect because he’s spent so damn long arranging it that he’d feel stupid if it didn’t look absolutely right. 

Around him, the family is busy with other decorations in the sitting room and… alcohol. Alcohol is a definite activity, as per usual. 

His mother is in the kitchen baking more cookies than a Keebler Elf does in its entire lifetime. Judging by the yelling directed at the tv, his siblings and cousins are upset with the scores of some big game and what kind of intervention the refs need due to some play or another. Honestly, Bucky has no clue. Sports are all the same to him, sound the same too. 

Everyone is distracted. But it won’t be long before all the joking and conversation rounds the room to him.  _ Who are you dating? Why aren’t you dating? _ He’ll smile awkwardly, and someone will call him shy as usual, and then Bucky’ll blush and that will start another set of discussion points about his appearance. They love him, and the teasing is always good natured  _ but…  _ it’s still teasing. 

It’s silly that he feels as if he doesn’t fit in, but even now, at twenty-two years old, he feels out of place in the bustle of his huge family. He’s child number four of four-- and even though he’s a twin, somehow he managed to pop out last  _ and  _ be the only Omega in the family apart from his mother. A whopping two in one type of deal that sometimes he feels as if he drew the shorter stick of. 

He loves them all-- even his brood of infinite cousins-- but he just prefers them one at a time. He’s not shy, not really, he’s just entirely overwhelmed in groups. Especially after the last few years. Being the focus of attention has always been uncomfortable for him, but his siblings thrive in it: Robby, twenty-eight, is the oldest and the prime specimen of Alpha if there ever was one; Johnny, twenty-six, is the muscle and the athlete; Rebecca, his twin, is the soldier and she’s been around the world doing things that rival superheroes in the comics; and then, there’s him. He’s good at… being James Buchanan Barnes. 

He likes his quiet apartment in town. He likes his quiet job for his grandparents. His quiet life crafted with just the right balance of solitude and family. But today is a good day. It isn’t Christmas for another week, but today is even  _ better  _ than Christmas. Why? Because his sister is finally coming home. 

Bucky checks the time. It won’t be long now. 

Becca is the only exception to the ‘family makes him feel weird’ rule. She’s just finished her second tour from somewhere in the Middle East and this will be her first Christmas home in a few years. 

Consequently, the celebration of Christmas is destined to be more like a weeklong festival this year. His mom is determined to make up for Becca’s lost Christmases. While having a big family already means lots of traditions, it seems like this year is going to go off the rails into Christmas mania. In fact, his mom actually took notes on one of her legal pads while watching  _ The Santa Clause.  _ Notes. Probably things like ‘source a reindeer’ or ‘pay the town’s children to dress up like elves’. But no matter what, Becca will love it. 

All of it. 

He supposes a reindeer wouldn’t be so bad. And he likes kids. Just not a lot of them in a small space. 

But he’s not crazy about figgy pudding. His mom sent an email last week putting him in charge of it. For fifty people. That’s a lot of figgy. That’s a lot of people, too. The least she could have done is allowed him to make plum flavored instead-- cause that’s the good shit right there. 

But he’s looking forward to having Becca home. It’s been hard without her the last few years. Probably good for him in a lot of ways considering how attached they’ve been-- or, at least, him to her. But they’re twins. His other half. They can communicate without words, and nobody makes him laugh like she does. Skype is a poor substitute. 

The game switches to a commercial break, so he slips into the kitchen and takes a deep breath. So far, so good. 

“Just in time,” his mom says. “The cookies are ready to decorate.” 

He looks at the shapeless cookies that line the counter. He grabs one and holds it up to the light, wondering why it has a hole in the middle of what could have maybe been a snowman. Bucky smiles. “Dr. Barnes, they let you cut people open for a living. Why can’t you cut a cookie? These don’t… what are they supposed to look like?” 

His mom sighs. “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong either. Every year, I roll the dough, I cut the dough, but by the time I get them into or out of the oven, they look more like Patrick from Spongebob than trees and Santas.” 

Bucky picks another one up. “This one is more Spongebob than Patrick.” 

“Ha. Ha. James, when did you become such a jokester?” 

They work side-by-side for half an hour when his mom gets the text that his dad and Becca are almost home. When she puts it down, she somehow seems even more frantic than she has already been throughout the entire holiday preparations. “Did you put the guest towels out?” 

“Yes, Mom.” She’s already asked him twice today. 

“Not the nice guest towels… the fancy ones.” 

Instantly, the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand on edge. “Why would we put out the fancy towels for Becca? I mean, I know we’ve missed her, but she’s still Becca.”  _ Not  _ fancy guest towel material. 

“She’s bringing her Captain home with her. Or ex-Captain. I’m not sure how that works. He’s the one who saved your sister’s life, but he’s getting out of the army now. Captain Rogers.” 

Inwardly, Bucky groans. One more person. And a stranger to make it interesting.  _ Breathe. Just breathe.  _ He takes the bowls to the sink so that he can talk without having to look directly at his mom. It might be easier to approach her about the sleeping arrangements without eye contact. 

“Hey Mom, I’ve been thinking… maybe I should stay in town this week after all. It sounds like you’re going to have a full house here. There’s no reason why I can’t stay in my own apartment.” Where there are no strangers. “I’ll come back every day.” He chances a glance behind him. His mom has that look-- the one that says,  _ ‘What are we going to do with you, Bucky?’ _

“What?” he asks. “I just think--” 

“You’re father and I are already looking forward to having all of you home. Under one roof. For the week. Like old times.” It’s not like he goes crazy overboard working, but his siblings (and himself) have all ‘moved’ home for the holiday. He already misses his quiet apartment, and he’s only been here for a few hours. 

“I’ll come back first thing every mor--”

“Bucky. That’s enough. Please. We all need this. As a family. There are plenty of rooms here and I don’t want to worry about you driving home late at night.” 

“Late at night?” he echoes. Why would he be up late at night? 

His mother takes the rinsed bowls and puts them into the dishwasher. “We have things scheduled every evening this week.” 

“ _ Scheduled _ ?” 

His mom nods toward the fridge while she adds soap to the dispenser. “It’s on the itinerary. I was going to pass copies of it out later, but there’s one on the fridge if you want a sneak peek.” 

“You have an itinerary?” Bucky takes the paper off the fridge. “You have a  _ typed  _ itinerary. Mom this is in outline format. With Roman numerals.” 

“It needed to be organized. We are having an old-fashioned family Christmas, and you are all going to look back on this time and be grateful we were together.” 

Alrighty then. His mother has become Clark Griswold. “Mom...” 

Her phone buzzes, and she picks it up after shooting him a quelling glance. “They’re here.”

* * *

Steve

* * *

He’s been sitting in the backseat of the Escalade watching the freeway turn into a highway turn into one single main street that runs through the entirety of Basking Ridge, New Jersey. The gray December clouds make it impossible to tell the time of day, but Steve knows it shouldn’t be dark enough for all the streetlights to be on yet. 

It isn’t raining, exactly, more like the sky is spitting at the car as they crawl down the street. Some hail, some rain, some mist, maybe even a little snow, but not the kind that sticks. Mr. Barnes-- George, he said to call him-- is driving them home from the airport. 

Well, George is driving his daughter home. Steve doesn’t have a home or a clue as to whether or not he even wants one or how to go about finding one if he decided he did. He hasn’t stayed anywhere that wasn’t Army issued in a long damn time. He’s just tagging along for the ride. Barnsey… no, Rebecca-- he’s supposed to call her Rebecca now-- has family connections to a custom garage in Basking Ridge that specializes in restoring muscle cars and has a reputation for quality that is unmatched anywhere else in the country. He already put in an order for his dream car, a ‘67 Chevy Camaro. Barnsey got him a great deal with the understanding that Steve would come home with her and spend the holidays with her family. There was no mistaking the pity-invite, but Barnsey is a good woman and he wants that car. 

“On your right is my high school, Cap. We only have two schools-- a K-6 and a 7-12.” 

Steve barely remembers high school, but there were probably more kids in his Brooklyn graduating class than in both Basking Ridge schools combined. That, and the so-called ‘school’ looks like a miniature castle. But he doesn’t bother saying that particular thought out loud. He only hums, “Not your Captain anymore.” 

Because he isn’t. Sure by titles he can still go by Captain Steven Rogers, but he’s officially out now. Retired. Unshackled.  _ Adrift _ . 

“I don’t think I can call you Steve,” Barnsey answered. “Too used to Cap.” 

Steve chuckles at that. “Yeah, Rebecca is gonna be a stretch for me, too.” 

They laugh, and Rebecca’s dad fills him in on town trivia as they turn onto Marble Hill Road. He’s heard a lot of the stories before. In the sandbox, home is a popular topic for many of the enlisted men and women to talk about. And while Rebecca has told her fair share of stories, Steve is still somehow totally confused on how he hadn’t realized she came from a good amount of money. 

They pull into a gated driveway and drive down a long stretch of road that leads to a circular drive that surrounds a garden. The house they park in front of is about three of the McAllister houses put together from  _ Home Alone _ . Three stories, huge windows and a double-door made of crystal clear glass makes up the front, and columns line up around the front door where a wide staircase leads from the driveway. 

His jaw doesn’t drop but he lets out a surprised breath. Barnsey always said her dad is a lawyer, and her mom is an Obstetrician, and that her grandparents own the town car lot as well as the custom garage. Steve’s always been sharp, but he’s seriously starting to doubt his mental skills if he couldn’t connect the dots. 

The outdoor white Christmas lights twinkle against all the gray like a beckon. Huge red ribbon bows are hanging perfectly from the porch rails, but there’s no missing the even bigger yellow bow on the door. Rebecca Barnes has been missed. She’s been thought of every day. 

The three of them get out of the car as the front door opens and people pour out. Barnsey’s family gathers around him, their voices raising to be heard above the ones just joining. People are still spilling out the front door. 

Steve hangs back, allowing the crowd better access to their returning soldier. He inhales deeply. The air smells clean. Fresh. He almost doesn’t want to exhale and poison it with the breath from his lungs. Suddenly, he very much wishes to go back to the place where everything is khaki and camouflage. Where a guy like him feels safe. 

But then, Steve notices that he’s not the only one hanging back. One kid-- although he doesn’t really look like a kid, more like a young adult who hasn’t entirely escaped his teen years-- leans against one of the white columns. Waiting. He’s dressed in an oversized dark gray cardigan and dark jeans, practically blending in with the gloomy weather. His long brown hair nearly hides his face, and his skin is pale, mirroring the snow around them. 

Steve recognizes camouflage when he sees it. And camouflage is what he’s used too. The young man waits patiently as the mob scene gets louder. But then, a smile blooms across his face and  _ gosh _ , he’s a beauty. Steve almost startles at the thought, however, something even more jarring dawns on him. The young man is Rebecca’s twin. There’s no missing the same features. The same smile, even. 

Steve’s heard about him. A lot. Bucky is his name, if he remembers correctly. Barnsey always claimed he was the better half of the duo. She said Bucky is the quiet one, and Steve can tell by his appearance that it’s not an exaggeration. Then there was the whole thing about ever since they were kids, they always knew exactly what the other needed. 

Rebecca breaks away from the crowd and makes the short distance up the front steps. Bucky’s smile transforms his face as it stretches, and it’s almost too personal watching as he leaps into his sister’s embrace. Rebecca’s arms wrap tightly around her brother, and there’s no missing how Bucky clings back to her, his fingers gripping her clothes like a lifeline. 

Steve knows he should look away, but he can’t. He’s trapped by the scene. Does Barnsey know how lucky she is? To have someone care about her that much? To have all these people who care about her? 

Bucky laughs at something his sister says. That smile.  _ God _ . It’s like looking into the sun. And the longer Steve focuses on the young man, his nose twitches as a scent hits his nose. It’s rich and sultry-- like it’s got layers of scent that have molded together in a sensual breeze that makes Steve think of silk sheets and dark chocolate. Oh,  _ hell _ . Steve wants to growl. The smell is the only one that bleeds out, a treasure so sacred that it has Steve stilling. Omega’s are so rare. Statistically, there’s only ever one Omega out of one hundred Alpha’s and five hundred Betas. And the smell, no doubt, is coming from Bucky. 

Considering Steve is an unmated Alpha, he would have assumed that Rebecca would have told him. Or at least kept him as far away from her twin brother as possible. 

Steve swallows hard and tries to switch his brain back on to normal just as the family moves toward him, and George begins a flurry of introductions. Steve loses sight of the twins and puts on his game face. Polite he can do. He’ll have to be careful with his language. He doesn’t expect that civilians will care for the way most soldiers speak their minds. Being blunt would be an understatement. But since he’s not a talkative man, he figures he’ll be alright. 

And he needs to learn how to fit in. This is his life now. 

This family surrounding him is more than nice, and it is easy to play along, but what he really wants to do is be alone. Except that isn’t true either. He has no idea how to be alone. He’s been part of a team for so long, yet he’d always felt apart. It was easier to deal with the feelings when he had a job, responsibilities, and the threat of death hanging over his head at any carelessness. He cared about his soldiers, his team. It’s just as if he’s shocked to find that he’s unprepared for not having anyone to care about anymore. 

But he is used to feeling lonely even when surrounded by people. At least that isn’t new. 


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky

* * *

He can’t sleep. 

He misses his old bed. His adult bed. Sleeping in his childhood room is just weird. Sure he’s crashed at his parents’ home before, but this time is different. Like premeditated regression. His room isn’t exactly a shrine, but it certainly hasn’t changed very much either. So he does what any grown up would do. He heads to the kitchen to eat cold pizza and raid his dad’s whiskey at two in the morning. 

He leaves the lights dim, enjoying the glow from the strings of multicolored lights he and Johnny wrapped around pine boughs and then draped on top of the cupboards. He eats his pizza and then turns his attention to his beverage, remembering the first time he and Becca stole booze from the liquor cabinet and how not great that turned out. They had tried to replace the vodka in the bottle with water, but got busted when his parents decided to put the vodka in the freezer before a summer party and their ‘booze’ froze. It wasn’t the first or last time Becca and him were in double trouble. 

Lost in his thoughts, Bucky feels his presence before he sees him-- the infamous Captain Rogers. 

Bucky stiffens and turns toward the door. There he stands, arms braced across the doorway, his masculine shape redefining all his previously held impressions of his mother’s kitchen.  _ Wow _ . 

The breath freezes in Bucky’s lungs. Captain Rogers is wearing a simple dry fit shirt but it squeezes against his torso like a second layer of skin. The army-issued sweatpants hang loosely on his hips but the fabric hugs his thick thighs so deliciously. The way he holds his arms leaves no need to imagine the curves and planes of his strong muscles and shoulders. As Bucky totally did all throughout dinner. His imagination is no match for reality because holy hell those muscles are a direct gift sent from the heavens above. 

The Captain tilts his head, silently asking permission to enter, so Bucky sends him a small smile. His mouth feels too dry to form a verbal response. Because  _ wow _ . Alpha much? 

When his mom said Becca was bringing home her retiring Captain, he just assumed someone much older. Someone grizzled and gray. But this guy is probably in his mid-thirties and the most prime-of-his-life specimen Bucky’s ever been privileged to see in person. Rogers is well over six feet with sharp blue eyes that promise danger. His cheekbones are chiseled, able to cut into an Omega’s heart for sure, but really the trimmed beard that he has going on is downright sinful and every instinct in him has Bucky’s fingers twitching to touch and feel. 

“Can’t sleep, Rogers?” he asks, sliding the pizza box over a place setting on the counter for him. 

Rogers joins him, taking the second stool at the breakfast bar next him. “It’s too quiet.” 

God, he smells good. Looks good. Sounds good. 

Bucky grabs a Santa cup off the mug tree and pours some whiskey into it for him. Rogers huffs a small grateful laugh and thanks him. His large hands wrap around the mug and immediately, Bucky imagines them wrapping around himself instead. 

His eyes get wide at the thought and he has to tear his gaze away. He needs to seriously get a grip. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes while Rogers eats a slice and Bucky sips at his whiskey. Obviously he’s never been talkative much, so now is so different. He’s not good at ice-breaking. If they had something in common, it would be easier, but really all they have is Becca. Things are awkwardly quiet long enough that they surpass awkward and move straight into uncomfortable. Rogers starts tracing the top of his mug with his finger. Bucky watches the movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“You don’t like me, do you, mistletoe?” 

Bucky’s gaze goes flying to Rogers’. “What?”  _ Way to go _ . Even when sitting in silence he totally fucks it up. “I-I don’t even know you. Why would you think I don’t like you?” 

“You just don’t seem to. At dinner… after dinner when we were all in the living room… I thought you were angry or something. Or that I rubbed you the wrong way, no matter what I said.” 

Bucky sinks all the way back onto the stool. With shaking fingers, he reaches for his mug of whiskey. “That’s not true. I’m just-- I’m quiet. Usually people think I’m just shy. No one’s really ever called me a snob before.”

“I didn’t say you were a snob.” 

He’s not shy, either. He just doesn’t like being noticed. Bucky’s never once in his life thought that maybe by trying so hard to be unnoticed, he might be drawing even more attention to himself. But none of that is Rogers’ fault. He scrambles to think of what to say, how to fix this, when he remembers that the Captain gave him a nickname. 

“Did you just call me mistletoe?” 

The side of Rogers’ mouth tips upward. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He tips his mug for a refill and Bucky pours, grateful for something to do. “So, my guess is that we are the two worst communicators in the house. And here we are with no backup.” 

This awkward encounter is not getting any less awkward. Bucky takes another sip of whiskey. “I’m much better with people one on one than I am in a crowd. I was just being quiet tonight. It wasn’t personal. Let’s just start over, okay?” He points to the mug in Rogers’ hand. “Hi, my name is James but everyone calls me Bucky. Can I buy you a drink in this bar in the middle of nowhere?” He almost slaps his forehead. He’s so lame. Geez. Middle schoolers have more smoothness than him. 

Rogers scrunches his brows together and then shakes his head. Confused, no doubt, because Bucky’s so freaking weird. But then, he grins. “Hi, Bucky. I’m Steve. Where I come from, men buy the handsome fellas a drink. Come here often?” 

Bucky chuckles. In spite of himself. In spite of the fact that there are no nearby rocks to crawl under. “New in town. You?” 

“Here on business. I’m a…” Steve looks around the kitchen, his eyes resting on the stove. “I’m a… pot holder salesman. From New York.” 

Bucky smiles. “Pot holders? That’s fascinating.” He takes another sip. “I bet you are very influential in your company.” 

Steve nods and a devastating smile stretches across his face, making little lines appear by his eyes. “I’m kind of a big deal.” He holds up his hand like he’s getting the bartender’s attention and indicates two more drinks. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Bucky says, while pushing his cup toward Steve for more. 

“Tell me what you do,” he says as he pours their drinks. “Before I do something stupid and ask what a handsome Omega like you is doing in a place like this place like this.” 

Steve already knows that Bucky runs all the technical stuff for his grandparents, as that came up at dinner. But he likes this little game they’re playing and is so not ready to stop. Not yet. “I’m a singer. A karaoke champion in four counties.” 

Steve laughs, a nice rumble that Bucky feels strumming in his own belly and then lower. “Look at us. We haven’t offended each other in several minutes.” 

Bucky kinda drifts off for a few seconds. The smell sitting on his nose makes things go a little hazy. Steve smells so good. When he cocks his head to the side in question, Bucky realizes he said that out loud. It’s really no surprise that he’s embarrassed himself. “Sorry. I… don’t get out much.” He’s been drinking, yes, but he’s not drunk. 

Steve laughs again. “You smell good, too.” 

Bucky knows he’s teasing, but it’s nice. He tries to tamper down the red creeping into his cheeks by biting his lip. Which brings Steve’s attention to Bucky’s mouth until he brings his blue gaze up to Bucky’s eyes. The air feels charged, a moment dragging impossibly long between them. Like static buzzing and zapping. Bucky can’t look away from Steve’s eyes, even though he knows that he’s been staring into them too long. 

It’s like falling. 

Or maybe flying. 

“I should go,” Steve says, but he doesn’t look away. God, he’s absolutely the most handsome man that Bucky’s ever seen. 

“If we were really in a bar, would you try to get me to leave with you?” That’s a really stupid question. One that he doesn’t want to know the answer to. 

Steve swallows hard. “We’re not in a bar though. You’re my friend’s little brother, and I’m in your parents’ kitchen.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Steve takes a deep breath and Bucky braces himself for what he knows is coming. “Bucky… you’re a nice guy.” 

He looked away then. The heat of humiliation was heavy in his cheeks. There was his answer that he asked for, wasn’t it? Nice guy is shorthand for plain. Simple. Not the type of guy you pick up in a bar and definitely not the type of person that a guy like Steve would want to take home. Bucky shouldn’t feel let down. He’s spent the past two and a half years cultivating plain and simple. He tries very hard not to look like a guy who could be picked up in a bar. To  _ not  _ be the guy who gets picked up in a bar. He’s embarrassed himself and his family enough this decade. But it stings just the same. He sucks at handling rejection. Even before the incident. After… well, Bucky’s spent a lot of time making sure not to put himself in rejection’s path. 

Bucky feels something on the inside tremble and he quickly gets up to busy himself with putting the pizza box away and rinsing his cup. Steve hasn’t left the kitchen, so for the moment, Bucky will have to fake being fine. He’s not sure he’s pulling it off.

“Bucky.” Steve is directly behind him. He moves like a ninja or something. 

He closes his eyes. “Hmm?” 

With one big hand on Bucky’s hip, Steve turns him around until they’re face to face, barely an inch between them. The heat of his palm scorches the skin beneath Bucky’s pajama pants. “You’re beautiful, Bucky. And you smell amazing, too.” Bucky snorts and tries to turn, but Steve cups his chin and brings him back to his sharp, hot gaze. “If we were in a bar, I would have worked every angle until I got you back in my hotel room.” 

His breath hitches. “I probably wouldn’t have been interested,” Bucky lies. 

This time, it’s Steve that snorts. “Oh, you’re interested.” 

“You must think very highly of yourself,” Bucky quips back. 

Steve shrugs. “Some things are inevitable. But I’m going to try really hard to put this one off.” 

“Right. Inevitable. So inevitable that you can walk away. I get it. I’m not your type. You don’t have to give excuses--” 

Steve stops him with his mouth. A hot, wet zing that goes straight from Bucky’s lips to the center of his body and then lower. He’s still holding Bucky’s face in one hand, and his other squeezes Bucky’s hip. Holding him still. He must like being in charge and strangely enough, Bucky really likes him being in charge. Steve slants his lips over Bucky’s and coaxes his mouth open. He tastes like the whiskey they shared, and something even stronger, and Bucky gladly drinks him in, getting more intoxicated with each pass of his tongue. 

But eventually, Steve pauses, pulling back to find Bucky’s eyes. Then, he closes his own and exhales a sigh as he presses his lips to Bucky’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“No, you’re not.”  _ Please don’t be sorry. _

“No, I’m not.” Steve steps back. “But I’m just passing through. I’m too old for you. I’m not boyfriend material, and you deserve better. Especially given that you’re an Omega and probably want something that is long term. Also, your sister will kill me.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh. “I’m not going to tell her. Are you?” 

Steve still looks uncomfortable.

“Look,” Bucky begins, knowing he’s playing a losing game. “We… we got carried away. Lost in a moment. Just... blame it on the mistletoe.” 

“We’re not standing under mistletoe.” 

“Right. Well, then it’s the Christmas lights. And the whiskey. And the time of year. You’re home safe from war. Whatever.” 

Steve doesn’t look convinced, but he nods, accepting the excuse. It hurts, but Bucky can’t hang onto a cracking ledge. And he just can’t handle it. 

He quickly picks himself up on his tiptoes and kisses Steve’s cheek before he practically runs out of the kitchen. Because while he knows that it could have been any or all of those reasons, Bucky’s afraid it is the one he didn’t say. That despite everything he’s done, no matter how hard he’s tried to hide his body, his looks, Brock Rumlow and his friends had been right that night two and a half years ago. 

* * *

Steve

* * *

During a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes, hash browns, and freshly-squeezed orange juice, Dr. Barnes hands out to-do lists to her children and asks him to go with Rebecca and Bucky. 

After being treated to a meal that almost made him forget he’s ever had to eat an MRE, Steve doesn’t feel like he can tell Dr. Barnes no to anything ever again, but he’s worried about any awkwardness for Bucky. He still doesn’t know what came over him last night. He just couldn’t watch Bucky shrinking the way he had been. It was more than just him being introverted, hell, Steve himself is just as bad about being social as Bucky is, but it was different. 

The way Bucky withdrew into himself like he thought there was something wrong with him, and there was no way Steve could let him think that. Bucky is special. He deserves a smart guy who will get to know him. Steve may not be sure why Bucky protects himself and tries to hide into the woodwork, but underneath, Bucky is warm and beautiful and he deserves to know that. The way he kissed Steve back, melting into Steve’s mouth and snaking around Steve’s body-- Steve has no doubts that Bucky was made to be pleasured. But he also needs the guy that figures that out to not be someone like Steve. 

Bucky’s got ‘breed a baby into me’ written all over his beautiful face and Steve’s not that great of a man to say he wouldn’t take that opportunity if it was given to him fully. But Steve’s not that guy. And Bucky deserves the best. 

Bucky is no quieter in the car than he was last night at dinner, but Steve can’t deny that part of him hoped Bucky would feel more comfortable with him. Like how Bucky was when they were talking alone. Two strangers in a bar. But then Steve royally fucked that up when he kissed him, and it’s his own damn fault. Steve’s just lucky Bucky hasn’t told his sister what an asshole Steve is. 

By all rights, Steve should have been kicked out and banished to the streets of Basking Ridge by the Barnes family for disrespecting their Omega son like that. Steve can only wonder why Bucky didn’t tell his twin what happened. Barnsey had told him more than once how Bucky was his best friend. If Bucky keeps things like last night from his sister, how is the girl supposed to protect her little brother? 

Somehow, Steve starts getting mad at Bucky for not telling. He shouldn’t keep things like that from his family. What if Steve had been a different kind of Alpha? One who took Bucky’s quiet as permission? One who cares more about getting laid than Bucky’s feelings? One who uses him or even hurts him? Omegas had to be careful, everyone knew that. 

Steve shakes his head when he realizes that he wants to kick his own ass on Bucky’s behalf. The whole situation is just messed up. 

They park on a street that has angled parking. Rebecca hands the keys to Bucky after popping the back open. “Would you mind taking the boxes to the library for Mom on your own?” she asks. “I have some shopping left to do.” 

Bucky only smiles. “Great. That means your shopping for me.” He gets out of the car and goes to the trunk where Rebecca hands him a box. “Just don’t do all your shopping at the hardware store this year, ‘k?” 

“Hey, everyone should have their own set of tools.” 

“You’re a tool,” Bucky teases, before he straightens up and faces Steve and there goes that ease that the brunet had had for only a few seconds. “Come on, Rogers. The library is this way.” 

He starts walking, so Steve nods a quick goodbye to Barnsey. Barnes.  _ Rebecca _ . The street reminds him of a magazine cover that depicts America’s greatest small town. A town with no crime. No problems. It’s as if he’s stepped onto a movie set. There’s old fashioned lamps decorated with wreaths that line the sidewalks in front of the Victorian shop fronts. There’s a grassy medium lined with oak trees that gives the appearance of a different, slower time. But it’s the shop windows that draw in Steve’s attention. Some of them project out white panes, but all of them showcase a Christmas scene. Glitter, lights, toys, and since there are no cars on this part of the street, Steve really could have stepped into a different era. Like the 1920s or 30s, or something innocent from a different time. 

When Steve catches up to Bucky, he can’t help but ask, “Hey, why are we bringing books to the library, anyway? Doesn’t it usually work the other way?” 

“These are for the Christmas party. Santa gives each kid a book for a gift. My parents purchase them every year for donation but the librarian will separate them into the different age groups.” 

“Your family is pretty great,” Steve says, embracing the fact that Bucky hasn’t clammed up on him. Maybe they really can be friends. Which is nice, considering Steve doesn’t have any civilian ones. 

“We’ve been fortunate,” Bucky says. “My parents always taught us to pay it forward. To give back. But yeah, they are pretty great.” 

Bucky smiles at him, and Steve almost drops the box. It’s like the one Steve saw him give Rebecca yesterday. It feels like warm sheets from the dryer. And--  _ no _ . It’s just a smile. Bucky may be wearing a turtleneck and a heavy coat, but nothing makes his smile less potent. 

The library is a small brick building on the corner. It has been a long time since Steve’s been in one, but Bucky walks straight behind the desk like he’s been there a hundred times. And he probably has. 

“Hey, let me take that,” a man’s voice says from the stacks behind Steve. He turns and finds a well-dressed, preppy guy wearing glasses rushing to Bucky’s aid. He feels shame wash over him knowing that he should have taken both boxes from the car. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

But just as quickly as the thought enters his mind, it flutters away. Omegas are not fragile. Bucky may be physically smaller than him, yes, but he doesn’t need Steve to treat him like a precious flower-- no matter how loud Steve’s Alpha instincts beg to differ. 

The sharp dresser takes the box from Bucky and gestures to Steve. “Follow me, guys.” As they follow, Steve gets an introduction. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Peter Quill. Town librarian.” 

Steve can tell that the guy is neither an Alpha or Omega, making him the common Beta. Peter drops the box against a wall, so Steve puts his on top and thrusts out his hand. “Steve. I’m a friend of Rebecca Barnes.” 

Peter’s handshake is firm and sure. “Are you the Captain Rogers that we’ve all heard about?” 

“That’s him,” Bucky answers with a nod. “Steve is having Christmas with us, the poor guy. Speaking of, you’re still coming to the dinner, right?” 

Steve watches the warm chit chat between the two and realizes that this Peter Quill is the kind of guy Bucky should hook up with. Or maybe he already did. Or is. Quill is friendly, and a good dresser… and they seem to like each other well enough. Peter could probably talk to Bucky about important things that Steve doesn’t have the slightest clue about. 

His gut churns, though Steve’s going to blame that on too much breakfast and not jealousy. Because he has no rights to Bucky. Steve’s not staying and even if he was, Bucky would be better off with this guy than someone like Steve. Peter and Bucky fit together in a world that makes sense. 

But Steve never figured the world was designed to make much sense. 

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Bucky asks the guy, obviously disappointed. Quill must have turned down the invitation while Steve was remembering how whiskey tasted off Bucky’s soft lips and tongue. 

Peter shakes his head. “Sorry, Buck. Plans this year, but thank your mom again for me.” 

“Will do.” Bucky looks to him. “Think we have time for a hot chocolate before Becca finishes her shopping? My mom will be ecstatic if I fit in an unscheduled bonus Christmas activity.” His eyes drift back to Peter and the warmth on Bucky’s face directed at the man sends something coiling down Steve’s spine. “I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s bordering on manic this year.” 

“I’m sure she’s just glad to have your sister home.” Peter smiles at him, and Steve wants to punch something. Which only makes him want to punch himself. He’s supposed to be learning how to deal with people with this new civilian life he’s taking on. But he really,  _ really  _ hates the idea of this librarian being perfect while Steve is anything but. 

In the Army, he knew where he stood. In bars, he knew how to talk to people. How to get them to flirt with him. In any given situation, Steve’s used to being the one in charge, the one respected. And he doesn’t like this lack of confidence that he’s suddenly feeling around a guy who isn’t even trying to size him up. In a physical fight, it’s clear who would win, and that’s pretty much how he’s used to earning his place most of the time. The strong guy, the confident guy, wins. Wins the fight. Wins the challenge. Wins the guy or girl. But in his new life, he’s not sure if that’s true anymore. Guys like Peter don’t have to be the Alpha to get ahead in the world. Guys like Peter can date Omegas like Bucky and live in a small town and be happy around books and Christmas parties for children. 

And that’s great. Really. 

Steve has no plans for Bucky other than being an extra brother for a week. That’s it. 

“I haven’t had hot chocolate since I was twelve, but sure, why not?” He inclines his head to Peter, searching the guy’s face for jealousy and finding none. Idiot. Does Peter not realize what he has? How easily he could lose Bucky if Steve were a different kind of guy? The staying kind? “Nice meeting you, Peter.” 

Peter tilts his head, reading something into Steve’s tone.  _ Good luck figuring it out, pal.  _ Even though Steve doesn’t even know why he’s upset at the moment. 

But before Peter can crack the code, him and Bucky are exiting the building and crossing the street to a small, cozy coffee shop. Inside, the interior is like stepping into a vintage movie. Everything is gray and black and white with just a few punches of color where flowers are beautifully placed throughout. The roasted beans smell delicious, but Steve knows he’s in for hot chocolate completely. Bucky tries to pay, and of course Steve doesn’t let him. 

“Let’s sit outside,” Bucky suggests. 

“You’ll freeze.” 

Bucky looks at him like he’s a little crazy. He pulls at the lapel of his long jacket, his eyes alight with humor. 

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs. “I don’t know why I’m treating you like you’re made of glass. That must suck at times, huh?” 

Bucky shrugs. “The world kind of does that to Omegas. It’s the whole pregnancy thing, I guess. Maybe even the fact that we’re always smaller than everyone else. I’m used to it by now.” 

Truthfully, Steve’s never really thought of how it would be. As an Alpha, the world has always treated him like he’s indestructible. Which is how he feels most of the time. But Omegas are no more fragile than anyone else. It’s just the whole… pregnancy thing, like Bucky said. Something that scares Steve shitless and has been the driving force as to why he’s always hooked up with Betas instead. But Bucky… well, he has Steve’s instincts stirring in ways that can only be primal. 

They get their drinks and sit in front of the shop. The day is clear and crisp, but the forecast is calling for snow in the next few days. So it’ll be an honest to God white Christmas. Something he didn’t have while tucked away in the desert. 

Bucky’s cheeks flush an adorable pink from the chill as he chats at Steve happily about the town and the traditions, and his mother’s crazy obsession with having the perfect holiday. Steve doesn’t have much to add, but he smiles while Bucky talks, enjoying the stories and Bucky’s animated expressions. So unlike the guy who blended into the background the day before. Steve likes that Bucky is starting to feel comfortable with him again. 

And  _ this  _ is why Steve fought so hard, so far from home for so long. So this beautiful young man with his pink nose could sip hot chocolate in a postcard-perfect small town coffee shop. So others just like Bucky could enjoy the anticipation of snow and holiday bliss. So they could be safe. Steve’s not one of them, not yet, but a peaceful sensation steals over him and makes him think that maybe someday he can be. 

But then Bucky stops talking abruptly and his gaze locks on something over Steve’s shoulder before his attention diverts down to the table. It isn’t until an older, graying man stops in front of him, instead of going past them into the shop, that Steve realizes why. Steve’s hackles are up and his muscles coil in ready response. 

“James,” the man says. 

“Hello, Mr. Rumlow.” Bucky doesn’t introduce him, but Steve’s not offended. Steve realizes something is very, very wrong and Bucky is desperately trying hard to hold it together. 

“This your new boyfriend?” Mr. Rumlow asks. His face is tight and his lips are curled into a sneer. 

Bucky shrinks further into his chair, so Steve stands, feeling protective and completely pissed off. “I’m Steve. Friend of Rebecca’s.” 

“You a soldier, too?” the man asks. He’s smaller than Steve, but somehow he doesn’t seem too intimidated. If anything, he appears smug to hell and back.

“Yeah,” Steve answers. 

“Thank you for your service,” he says, and it sounds earnest. Real. To Bucky, the man adds, “And I hope you’ve done your service by being upfront with this man about the kind of person you really are.” 

Bucky’s once pink cheeks are now ghostly white, void of any color, and Steve has an urge to punch the older man right in his face. 

“I think you should go in and get your coffee,” Steve orders, leaving no room in his voice for the man to think otherwise. 

“It’s fine, Steve.” Bucky says quietly. “I’m not upset.” Except, Steve can hear in his tight voice that Bucky’s extremely upset. 

The man snorts, turning. “Let’s see what kind of white horse you ride in on when you find out the lies this boy can spew. Don’t let him around your friends either. He likes asking for it, only to run away and point fingers.” 

Steve hears the sharp inhale of Bucky’s breath and he just loses it. He pulls his arm back and visualizes how satisfying the crunch of the man’s nose is going to sound-- only a grip from behind stops Steve from shoving his fist forward. 

“This one’s not worth your time, Cap,” comes Barnsey’s steel voice. “Though I do appreciate you looking out for my brother.” Becca steps in front of him and uses her body to steer the man away from Bucky. “Okay, Mr. Preacher, it’s time for you to hit the road and take all of your peace, love, and joy with you. Seriously hope you won’t make me call out our dear Uncle Logan-- y’know, the  _ Sheriff--  _ to handle this all over again.” 

The man shakes his head in disgust. “You’re not helping by defending him, you know. Your brother needs to come clean and confess--” 

Steve interrupts with a plea to Barnsey, “Please. Just let me hit him once.” He has no idea what this is even about, but he knows for certain that he hates this man. 

“Please stop.” Rebecca and him both turn to the soft voice. Bucky’s eyes are rimmed with unshed tears. “Don’t ruin Christmas. Let’s just go.” Without waiting for either of their answers, Bucky rushes past all of them and goes straight for the car. 

They try to talk about it but Bucky refuses to do anything other than stare silently out the windshield. When the house comes into view, the only words Bucky says to them is to not tell their mom. Rebecca tries to call his name but as soon as the car is in park, Bucky’s flying out and running right to his room. 

Steve can only stare after him, his chest aching fiercely. 

“What the hell was that all about?” he asks Barnsey as they move into the living room. The fireplace is like a magnet even though it isn’t that cold outside and they’ve just come in from a warm car. 

Becca sighs quietly. Looking at her, Steve can’t miss how stressed she looks suddenly. Defeated in ways no failed undercover mission could cause on her. “It’s…” she sighs in defeat, “It’s not my story to tell, Cap.” 

“I bet I could have interrogated it out of that man..” 

At that, Barnsey smiles. It’s strained, but it’s still something. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that. The guy’s an asshole.” 

Steve wants to pull rank and demand it out of the young woman, but he realizes, with a start, that he can’t do that anymore. “He made it sound like he--”

“My brother did nothing wrong. Don’t even go there.” 

“I wasn’t implying he did. I like your brother a lot.” Rebecca slants him a look. Quickly, he holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, you’re the one who invited me here. You know I’m an Alpha and you also neglected to tell me your little brother is an Omega. An  _ unmated  _ Omega.” 

She smiles when he says that. “He hates it when I call him my little brother. He says it doesn’t count with twins. But I don’t know… just always knowing that someday the thing he’s going to want the most, he’ll--” she sighs, “Bucky’s emotional. Always has been. We’ve always known that when he got to a certain stage in life, he’d want things that would leave us trailing after him in the dust. He’d find his partner. Have his children. We’ve coddled him way too much. People like Rumlow only just go to show how fucked up people are in the world, especially when an Omega falls for them.”

Steve’s throat goes dry at that. “Rumlow and Bucky… they were a thing at some point?” 

Grimly, Rebecca nods. “Yeah. Hated the slimy guys guts from the moment I saw him but--” she cuts off at the look she finds on his face. She’s confused for a moment, but then it becomes clear and she’s hastily shaking her head. “Oh, no, no. Not  _ that  _ Rumlow. His son. Brock. That man we ran into was the guy’s dad. And if you think he was bad, wait until you see his son. Guy makes his pop seem like a saint in comparison.” 

Steve’s blood runs cold. Who would even consider harming a sweet Omega such as Bucky? None of it makes sense. “What happened?” he asks softly. He doesn’t know what will happen if he finds out, but what he does know is that he  _ has  _ to know.

But Rebecca only shakes her head. “Not my story, Cap.” 

Steve nods in understanding. At least he tried. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the long delay, but as I explained on tumblr, I had to finish up my semester of student teaching and I GRADUATED UNIVERSITY!! It's been a busy last few weeks, but I'm here now so let's get this story moving! :)

Bucky

* * *

He wasn’t expecting a late-night knock on his door, but he’s even more surprised to find Steve standing there with a bottle of whiskey and two snowmen mugs. 

“You were quiet at dinner,” Steve says. As if that explains his presence at midnight. 

Bucky only shrugs. “I’m quiet a lot.” They’ve been over this already. Haven’t they? Yet, Steve still waits for him to… what… invite him in? Which Bucky’s not so sure he wants to do. Especially after today. “It’s late,” he says eventually.

“You don’t owe me anything, Bucky, but if you wanna talk, you can talk to me. I’ve heard just about anything you can imagine. And given the fact that I wanted to punch that asshole-- and still do-- you can bet I’ll be on your side.”

He watches Steve’s face carefully, biting into his lip. 

“I wanted to hit him. I still want to hit him.” 

Bucky nods like he understands but he feels defeated, like he’s had this conversation a dozen of times too many. “He’s not worth it. My uncle may be the sheriff, but there’s little he can do if Rumlow decides to press charges.” He’s quiet for a second as he remembers them all sitting down and discussing it for the first time, when Becca and their brothers tried to find any and all loopholes that wouldn’t end up with one of them being charged. “Believe me, we’ve tried,” he mutters sorely after. 

Steve takes a deep breath. “You’re right… but that’s not stopping you from letting him get to you.” 

Ugh. Bucky hates hearing the truth even when he knows it’s what’s good for him. He has half the mind to send Steve away except… he doesn’t. Not really. No, what he  _ really  _ wants is to pull the man in, throw him on the bed, and ride the man into the hours of tomorrow. Instead, he leans his head against the door of his bedroom and sulks. His life would be  _ so  _ much easier right then if Steve didn’t smell so fucking amazing. 

He bites at his lips, shaking his head. “My problems don’t concern you.” 

“Actually, yeah they do. I can’t stand the thought of some nobody hurting your feelings. It doesn’t matter about whatever history the two of you have. As long as you keep giving him the power to hurt you, he’s going to keep doing it.” 

That doesn’t explain why it concerns Steve, Bucky wants to say, but he doesn’t want to chance one of his family members walking down the hall, so he pulls the door back and gestures Steve in. Bucky refuses to squirm as the man lets out a low whistle as he turns in a circle in the center of the room, but he can’t stop himself from shifting from foot to foot, cursing the fuzzy rainbow socks on his feet.

“This your room still?” 

Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he takes in his old school Captain America poster and mathlete trophies. “I don’t live here anymore. I’m visiting just like you. But yeah...this was my room.” 

Steve hums but his eyes are still hopping from shelf to shelf, soaking it all in. “Feels like I’m sneaking into your room as a teenager.” 

Their gazes clash, and somehow Bucky feels Steve’s hunger. Hunger for  _ him _ ? He wants to say that that’s impossible, but there’s no denying that look on Steve’s face. 

He grabs a pillow off the bed and plops onto the floor, his back against the bed, the pillow in his lap to hide any evidence of how much Steve’s affecting him. “I’m sure you were the type sneaking into teenager’s rooms all the time. I mean, when you were a teenager. Not-- not like you sneak into teens rooms now or anything, sorry.” Bucky takes a deep breath as he tries to stop his rambling. “What I mean is that you were probably one of those bad boys in high school.” 

Steve joins him on the floor. He shakes his head. “Nah, not at all,” he says. “I wasn’t really popular in high school. I was super scrawny and asmatic as hell until I hit my growth spurt. I was a bit of a late bloomer and once I did sprout, I didn’t stick around to press my luck with anyone.” 

Steve pours each of them a drink before handing one to him. Bucky whispers a thank you before taking a tentative sip. He’s not oblivious to how Steve’s eyes have yet to leave him. 

“Was Rumlow your boyfriend in high school?” Steve asks suddenly. 

The man certainly gets right to the point. He must be one of those no-bullshit types of people. Which would certainly explain his choice in profession and how high in ranks he was. He’d have to ask Becca. 

He nods. “Yeah. Brock was my very first. Not in-- not in everything, but he was my first boyfriend. Or… at least I thought.”

“He ever come in here?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “We didn’t ever, um, have sex or anything… but he, um… really wanted to. In the end he didn’t, uh... appreciate me holding out on him.” He hasn’t realized he’s been picking at a stray thread in his sweater until he’s pulling it free, ruining the whole thing. He hasn’t gained the courage to meet Steve’s gaze, but he sure can feel it. 

He wonders what the man must be thinking. Is he like Brock, an Alpha who probably hates a picky Omega and one who refuses to give in? Does he think Bucky is uptight and a tease and someone who deserves-

“I didn’t want to screw up,” Bucky admits so quietly that he almost can’t hear himself. 

For a long moment, Steve is quiet. He takes a sip of his drink and Bucky can hear as Steve swallows. “Is that how you see it? Screwing up?” 

“Not at all,” he says, truthfully. “I don’t really see the importance of saving yourself for marriage or any of that stuff if you’re happy with the person you’re with. Sex is a freedom that anyone can have for themselves. It’s just… I never felt comfortable with Brock enough to go that far. I know it seems stupid but--” 

“It’s not stupid,” Steve quickly interrupts. “It’s always a person’s own choice when to take that step with someone and when not to.” 

“I know. Believe me, you don’t have to give me that speech.” 

“So is that why…” Steve cut himself off, shaking his head just briefly. “That’s not why his dad said those things to you today, is it?” 

Feeling self conscious, he starts to chew on his bottom lip. “No…” he mutters. “Are you sure you want to know all this?” 

“Are you sure you want to tell me?”

“No,” he answers, feeling his stomach clench. Has his palms been this sweaty the whole time? Why was his heart beating so fast? “I’m sure I don’t want to. It’s just-- sad and embarrassing.” 

Steve leans back, resting his head on the mattress behind them. “Even if that’s the case, it didn’t give that man an excuse to talk to you like that.” 

But… that’s where Steve is wrong, right? Brock’s dad had every right to be pissed.  _ Brock  _ had every right to be pissed. And Bucky had-- he’d deserved it. All of it. 

He takes a shuddering breath, preparing himself for the second Steve would shoot him that look of disgust and scurry away, leaving Bucky high and dry behind him. He didn’t owe Steve  _ shit  _ but it’d been so long since he’d been able to talk to another person-- someone that wasn’t part of his family. And it’s not like he has any friends. The only real question now, is where to start?

“When I was a senior in high school, one of my cousins came and stayed with us during Spring Break. She’s a lot wilder than I am. More free. She always has been. Anyways… she found out about my… thing… with Brock. She kept wanting to meet him and she kept pushing so I just--” he breathes out heavily. “Brock texted me about a party. It was something I never did-- something I wasn’t really allowed to do-- but that night… we went. It wasn’t even her idea. It was mine.” He feels his face burning in shame, his hands wringing together in his lap. “I wanted to do one thing that wasn’t expected of me. I’ve always been so babied. Treated like I’m made of glass. I don’t even know how to explain it.” 

He brings his knees to his chest, pushing the pillow off of his lap. There is no need to hide, not anymore, not with the turn of events. He bites the inside of his cheeks, licks at his lips. This is always the hard part. The scary part. 

But then, Steve is offering out his hand and like a lifeline, Bucky clutches at it with both hands. 

“I forced myself to let loose that night. I drank… but I was always aware of not drinking too much. I wanted to be stupid but not that stupid. I was with Brock all night. With his friends. It’d all happened so fast. One moment it was just me and him trying to find a quiet place and then… then it was a few of his friends, too.” 

Steve’s hand squeezes tight against his own and there’s no missing the sharp inhale the man takes. He can’t find the strength to meet Steve’s gaze. 

“I was saying no, I swear,” he says, feeling the urge to defend himself like he always does. He’d said the same to his family, to his uncle the sheriff, to everyone that asked. “I said no,” he repeats, fighting the shake in his voice. He’d stopped crying about this a long time ago-- there just wasn’t anymore tears to give. “Brock had pinned me down… undid my belt. Then my jeans. Ripped my shirt clean down the middle… It was clear what he wanted but it was also clear what I didn’t. I fought back but one of his friends, Jack, held my arms down. I started screaming after that. Calling for help.”

Another deep breath goes into his lungs but it comes out shaky, remembering the force they’d put onto him. Remembering feeling totally overpowered and cursing his designation with every fiber in his being. Remembering hating how he’d worn the jeans that accentuated his ass. The t-shirt that was see-through just enough to get the curiosities running. The feel of Brock’s breath hot against his ear when he’d told Bucky he would enjoy it. 

Bucky tips his head back and chugs down a steady gulp of his drink, enjoying the burn as it hollows him out. “My cousin found me before they… did it. I begged her not to tell my family the whole ride back to my house but… that didn’t happen,” he says quietly. “We were both seventeen. Brock and Jack had to serve time but they were tried as minors so it was only a few months and they never got past juvenile detention.” He’s quiet for a moment, biting so hard into his cheek that he knows it will start to bleed at any second. Steve is still there, holding his hand and watching him with such a careful look on his face that Bucky feels his heart start to quiver inside his chest. 

“In court they said I was asking for it,” he continues bitterly, scoffing as the resentment settles into his bloodstream. “That I had begged for it. Begged for  _ them  _ because they were both Alphas. They’d said I deserved it.” 

He almost jumps at the low growl that starts to resonate from Steve’s chest, but surprisingly, he finds it comforting that he too understands. Deep, deep down Bucky knows the truth-- that what they’d done had been wrong-- but on the dark days, the whispers always find their way in. Make him really start to question every step he took that night, every word. 

“And his dad defended him.” Steve isn’t asking a question. 

Bucky only nods. 

Steve’s hand grips at him tighter. “Then he’s a sack of shit for defending his asshole of a son.” 

At that, Bucky finally finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes. He sits up straight, narrowing his eyes just slightly. “You don’t think they have every right to be mad?  _ I  _ went to that party that night.  _ I  _ wanted the attention and I got it. I knew what I was doing.”

“The hell you did,” Steve says, his voice so low that his words sound menacing. “Those guys knew what  _ they  _ were doing the second they had you alone. They pulled you away with the intent--”

“I know, I know--”

“If that was true then you would know that none of that was your fault. You were taken advantage of and your cousin helped you before they could do anything worse. You did something wild and crazy, that’s it. You didn’t sign up for any of that other shit, Buck.” 

Strangely, it feels like he can breathe easier. Almost as if knowing Steve is on his side makes all the difference in the world. Hearing the words make him smile slightly, looking down at his hands intertwined with Steve’s, before meeting the man’s eyes. “Thank you for that,” he whispers and then he takes a deep breath, realizing he’s done talking about it, at least for now. He changes the subject. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me something about you.” 

Steve is still looking at him like he wants to keep talking about it, but he must read something on Bucky’s face because he lets it go. Steve takes a breath that somehow manages to steady Bucky, too. “What do you want to know?” Steve asks. “My life is pretty boring.” 

“I doubt that. But I want to know something personal. You have to give me something.” 

Steve is quiet for what seems like a long time but is probably only a few minutes. He starts and then stops, shaking his head. “Compared to what you just told me, anything I say will feel incomparable.” 

Bucky shrugs. “I’m not asking for you to compare our lives, Steve. Something shitty happened to me. It wasn’t okay, but  _ I’m  _ okay and that’s all that matters. Now tell me.” 

Steve’s gaze goes soft, like the lights are on but Steve isn’t there for a short moment. When he comes back, he says very quietly, “I haven’t had a hug in seventeen years.” 

* * *

Steve

* * *

It’s been seventeen years since he watched his ma get lowered into the ground. He’d been eighteen, a month after graduating high school, and ever since then, no one has ever gotten close. 

He’s never  _ let  _ anyone get close. 

Not close enough for a hug, that’s for certain. And now that he’s told Bucky, he realizes that as much as he hadn’t wanted to dwell on it, it’s been eating him alive. But now the words are out there and he can’t take it back and something squeezes around the emptiness where his heart is supposed to be. 

“It’s no big deal,” he adds quickly. But not quickly enough to stop the wave of pity that flashes over Bucky’s face. Not quick enough to erase the crinkle between Bucky’s eyes. God, Bucky just told him about his assault and yet he’s feeling sorry for  _ him _ ? “Really. I don’t even know why I said that.” 

“Steve--” 

He pulls away. “Do. Not. Pity me.” 

Bucky squeezes at Steve’s hands, his fingers trailing over Steve’s knuckles. Bucky’s hands are smaller and softer than his own. Steve’s are weathered and tough, Bucky’s are made for a different kind of life. 

“I don’t pity you.” 

“Yes, you do. I can see it. I’m not some lost puppy needing a home. I don’t need to be saved, Buck.” 

“Of course you don’t. You’re a good man,” Bucky says, like he’s so sure of it. Like Steve hasn’t killed dozens upon dozens of people. 

He knows he should get up. Perhaps even leave Bucky alone. But the thought of leaving the younger man alone, especially after he’s revealed the details of that night, has Steve’s instincts demanding that he stay. So he does. He concentrates on the way Bucky’s smooth skin feels against his hand. “I’m just a man, Buck. Nothing that great about me.” 

Bucky twines their fingers together. “I could go into the way you saved my sister’s life, but you would say you were just doing your job. I could mention that your job was serving your country and that you’ve been honored and decorated for merit and service, but you would probably just say the Army was the only thing open to you anyway. So, I’ll just ask you to tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“Tell me how you have gone seventeen years without...” 

Steve closes his eyes because looking straight at Bucky isn’t an option. Not now that Bucky can see right into him all the way to his damn soul. Because he can and what if there is nothing there for Bucky to see? 

“My mom died when I was eighteen. She’d been dying for a few months but it got ugly in the end. It’d been cancer. I gave her a hug the night she passed and I just… the next morning I was enlisted in the Army and I never looked back.”

Bucky frowns. “But haven’t you had flings? Lovers? Boyfriends? Surely someone’s touched you… and I don’t mean just sex wise.” 

He still doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get  _ Steve _ . “Bucky, I’m not the kind of guy who has boyfriends. Or lovers. Or anything. I have sex with people I’m attracted to. Once, maybe twice, and then I move on. I don’t stick. I don’t know how to stick. I’m the kind of guy your sister should have known better than to let hang around her little brother.” 

Bucky laughs. It’s a sound that Steve wouldn’t mind hearing again and again. It’s a beautiful sound. “Becca’s only ten minutes older than me. Ten minutes. And she thinks you walk on water. She’s probably hoping you’ll hang around me. She thinks I’m pathetic.” 

Steve’s already shaking his head. “No, she doesn’t. Not at all. She could never. She thinks you’re amazing. You  _ are  _ amazing.” 

Bucky’s pretty eyes dart to the side, away from Steve. “She wishes I was stronger. They all do. That I could let go of what happened.” 

He uses his free hand to gently grasp Bucky’s chin, inching him back to Steve. “You will. When you’re ready. You deserve time to heal.” Sitting on the floor of Bucky’s childhood room, his chin in Steve’s hand, and the other wrapped up in Bucky’s, is the most intimate he’s ever been with anyone. It isn’t like sex. Sex is bodies. This, on Bucky’s floor, if pulling Steve someplace new. Someplace vulnerable and scary. 

Bucky’s scarier than anything Steve’s ever faced, and hell, he’s lived through a goddamn war. Those eyes laser in on Seve. The heat between their bodies  _ sings _ . “You’ve missed out for so long,” Bucky whispers. 

Steve can’t move, can’t even breathe. 

Bucky turns to face him full on. “I can give you that,” he goes on. 

The shock of absolute stillness anchors Steve to the impossible moment. To this impossible young man. Bucky’s words echo in Steve’s head, reaching for dark corners and soothing the abandoned dreams that Steve gave up so long ago. It shouldn’t matter now. It doesn’t. Steve had come to terms of what his life would be so many years-- almost decades-- ago. Time made him a man. The Army made him an even better one. But he’s not good enough for Bucky. For  _ this _ . 

_ I can give you that.  _

It’s too late to leave. Too late to turn Bucky away. Because God help him, he wonders if Bucky can give him that. Knows that the brunet could, if Steve let him. 

Bucky pulls him down, anchoring Steve’s head to Bucky’s delicate chest. The angle is awkward considering their height difference, and truthfully Steve doesn’t know where to put his hands. He doesn’t know whether to push or pull, or if his touch will caress or destroy. Even if Bucky hates it, there’s no denying how fragile his body is in comparison to someone like Steve’s. One wrong touch, or too much pressure--  _ God _ . He would do anything not to hurt the man holding him. 

Bucky shushes him as if quieting his mind, pulling Steve further into his chest until Bucky’s heartbeat begins to lull him. The rhythm is steady, true. His hands find a place to rest on Bucky’s body that doesn’t make him feel like a creeper. He silently wills the rest of his body to chill the fuck down. 

The brunet smells so good. Not like cologne. Not like a club or a bar, which often carry their scents onto the people that Steve picks up. It isn’t even a scent he can place. It’s just Bucky’s skin-- so innocent, so untouched. 

In his life, he’s always been liked for his body, his face. He picks people based on how eager they are to get some alone time with him, and sometimes, their bodies, too. He likes Bucky, and he’ll admit that he likes Bucky’s body just as much as if he was anyone else in a crowd. But Bucky  _ isn’t  _ just some person in a crowd. This is different. What Bucky is giving him, measured by heartbeats, is unlike anything he’s ever been offered before. 

If Barnsey came in right now, she’d misunderstand. Anyone would. She’d think he’s taking advantage-- and maybe he is-- but not like that. She wouldn’t see what her brother is giving Steve is more than a place to rest his head, more than skin and sensation. It’s  _ connection _ . 

And it’s more dangerous to the both of them than if they were naked in the bed behind them. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Update?
> 
> YES! 
> 
> (BTW daily updates for this week to have the story fully completed)

Bucky

* * *

The day is bright, with natural sunshine lighting the kitchen up in cheerful rays. 

Bucky, on the other hand? Not so much. He slathers jam on his toast in short, jabby strokes. Dear,  _ sweet  _ Steve skipped breakfast in order to go for a run, which simply means the man didn’t want to deal with looking at him over the cereal box. Because today is cereal and toast instead of the fancy, over-the-top spread from yesterday. His mom is fighting a cold and went back to bed to get some rest. So no homemade breakfast today… unless toast counted? 

It wasn’t like he necessarily wanted to face Steve either. But at least he’s not a coward about it. Last night had been… a fucking mess. Something he didn’t even have words for. What kind of guy offers to hug a man like Steve Rogers? It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now in the light of day, the super bright light of day, he can only wonder if it was childish. 

Shame burns his face in splotches. Shame that he embarrassed them both. Shame that he’s not man enough to make love to a handsome man literally in his arms. Shame that he wanted to make love to Steve as much as he didn’t. 

“Today is bike day,” his oldest brother says, reading from the itinerary on the fridge door and interrupting Bucky’s thoughts. Robby groans. 

“It’ll be fun,” Bucky says. At least that’s something he can look forward to. He actually likes bike day. It’s one of his favorite family traditions. And it will give him something to do to stay busy. 

After cleaning the kitchen, the four Barnes siblings and his dad walk out to the detached shop. As the hum of fluorescent lighting starts, he feels the jitter in his stomach. “How many this year, Dad?” 

“Only ten,” he answers and smacks a kiss on the top of Bucky’s head and then another on Becca’s. It’s routine by now that they all go to work at their usual stations like elves in Santa’s Workshop. And they pretty much are. Every year, they put together bikes for Toys for Tots. When they were younger, they each built one with help from their dad, taking a break midway for hot chocolate or a snowball fight. As they grew up, they got better and needed less supervision, but took more breaks-- which led to the cell phone rule of no cell phones in the shop-- and adding more bikes. 

An hour goes by and Robby heads inside to go help his wife with their three month old baby-- Bucky’s nephew that he absolutely  _ adores--  _ and his dad goes to check on his mom, and Becca asks Johnny, their other brother, to go give Steve a ride to their grandparent’s shop to go check on his car so that Becca and Bucky can hang out together. 

Bucky watches as everyone files out and licks at his lips. Surely this isn’t about Steve. The man wouldn’t have told Becca about last night. “What?” he asks as soon as the door closes. 

“I just wanted to tell you that Nickelodeon is having a Rugrats marathon this afternoon,” Becca says. 

He spins the wheel of the bike to make sure it doesn’t wobble while squinting at his sister. “You’re a dork, but even you aren’t that dorky. Why’d you get rid of Johnny?” It’s not like their older brother wouldn’t watch Rugrats with them. At Christmas, they’re all kids again, even the one that actually has a kid. 

“I just miss you.” 

He puts down the WD-40. “I miss you, too,” he tells her. He pretends to be super interested in the bike chain in front of him because he doesn’t want her to see him tear up. There’s a long moment of silence where neither of them say anything, the silence says it for them. One of their twin superpowers. 

But then Becca is talking again and Bucky feels himself tense up. 

“So, what do you think of Cap?” 

“He’s nice.” 

“He’s a good guy.” 

Bucky sighs heavily, putting the tin can down with more force than necessary. “Just stop, okay. Your friend has no interest in me. None.” 

Becca puts her wrench down. “Because you don’t  _ want  _ him to have interest in you. Hell, you haven’t even put real clothes on today? Sweatpants and a jumper? Seriously? Would it kill you to have a bit of sex appeal?”

He sets his wrench down too so that he won’t throw it at his sister’s head. “Take that back.” 

“You’re borderlining on looking homeless.  _ Clean  _ homeless, I’ll give you that, but homeless all the same.” 

“Becca!” 

“It’s the truth. You can’t hide forever.” 

“I don’t like people noticing me. It’s not a fucking crime. The rest of you can have all the damn attention you want.” 

Becca pops down onto the workbench. “Sorry to disappoint, babe, but your plan isn’t working. Cap notices you. He pretends not to, but anytime he thinks I’m not paying attention, he’s watching you.” 

He picks up the wrench again for something to do. He just… can’t deal with this. “You’re making that up,” he says, turning away. “Quit being a matchmaker. You’re no good at it.” 

“Cap is a good guy. You could do a  _ lot  _ worse.”

_ He must not hit his sister with a wrench.  _

“Steve is a good guy, yes. He’s also very good looking and doesn’t need your help finding dates.” 

Becca’s brows rise up. “So you think he’s good looking?” 

If a glare could melt her face…

“Becca, stop. Of course, he’s good looking. But that doesn’t mean he’s a good match for me.” 

“You guys would have such beautiful babies.” 

“Becca!” 

“What?” 

“If you want babies, go find someone to give them to you and leave me out of it. Your ticking biological clock is not my problem.” 

“I don’t want babies. That’s why I want  _ you  _ to have them. I’m a much better aunt than I would be a mom.” That is categorically untrue, but he lets it slide. 

“I love you, Becca, but I don’t want to have babies with your Captain.” 

“Ex-Captain,” comes a voice from behind them. A  _ very  _ familiar voice. Well, that’s not embarrassing at all. 

He actually feels every color as it passes across his face. He must look like a kaleidoscope of pinks and reds. He swallows, licks at his lips. “Becs, I’m glad you survived Afghanistan just to come home and be killed by your little brother. It’s going to be a pretty embarrassing headline, though,” he says, shooting his sister a look that he hopes tells her that he will get her back, and it will be spectacular. To Steve he says, “Hi.” 

Steve’s smirk holds a thousand secrets. “Hi.” He lifts his brows in a near waggle. “Sheriff Logan had a call, so he had to change our meeting, and both of your older brothers are watching cartoons. I thought I’d come out here and help with the bikes.” 

Becca immediately gives up her station. “Here you go. I’m going to go make some coffee, you guys want some?” 

He nods. He’s still going to kill her, but he might as well force her to bring him caffeine first. Time seems to scream as she beelines out of the room. Bucky doesn’t fidget, but he doesn’t-- can’t-- find the strength to hold Steve’s gaze for more than a second. “Sorry about all the awkward,” he says when Becca is out of earshot. 

Steve just shakes his head and picks up Becca’s wrench. “I’ve put you in a weird spot with your family. It’s my fault things are awkward.” 

“It’s not. Becca is--” 

“Right. She’s right. I was standing there for a few minutes. I do… notice you. I can’t seem to stop noticing. And that was before… last night. 

He pretends to completely be absorbed in the pedals of the bike. “What do you mean notice me?” 

Steve smirks at him and Bucky’s head immediately gets all fuzzy because no grown man should have that much beauty. “Are you fishing for compliments?” 

“What?” Bucky balks. “No. I just mean… I’m not…” He runs his hand through his hair, loose and unfixed, while looking down at the horrendous outfit his sister had just pointed out a few minutes ago. His old self would have never been caught dead wearing sweats outside of his room. And in front of company?  _ Psh _ . 

“Bucky?” 

He looks up and finds Steve staring at him. He breaks eye contact, but Steve brings his chin back up. “You’re beautiful. So goddamn beautiful. I know you told me you don’t want to stand out but… you do. To me.” 

His heart skips a beat or three. He bites into his cheek. “I don’t want to stand out.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, his head tilting so gently to the side. “I feel like everything about you has been calling to me since the moment I saw you standing on the porch.” 

His heart thumps a crazy bass rhythm, one that Bucky isn’t sure his body can keep up with. “Why, Steve? You could have anyone you want. Guys like you…” 

Steve shakes his head. He exhales a harsh sound between a laugh and a groan. “Guys like you-- hell, I’ve never met anyone like you before. You scare the hell out of me.” 

Bucky wants to ask why, but voices from outside carry into the building as his family comes back. 

“Your mom is still feeling under the weather, so I’m going to take her to the doctor after we’re done,” his dad says. 

“You think we can get these bikes put together quickly?” Becca asks as she hands him a coffee, then Steve. “And good luck getting her to the doctor, Dad. She’s going to fight you. It’s such a cliché that doctors make the worst patients for a reason.” She squints at Bucky and shoots Steve a look, and then brings her gaze back to Bucky. 

He shakes his head. He gets back to work on the bike again, trying to focus so he doesn't obsess over the things Steve said. What is wrong with Bucky that he straddles the line between wanting to hide from men and desperately wanting Steve to find him worth looking for? Brock  _ had  _ told him he was a slut for the attention so-- no. No. Bucky hadn’t done anything wrong. Logically, he’d been innocent. 

But logic doesn’t help. Afterall, Bucky hadn’t had any when he went to that party. At the time, it felt empowering, but oh how quickly that had turned into a shit-fest. 

But where does that leave him now? Neither having sex nor hiding from sex is a place many Omegas find themselves in, so where the hell is he supposed to go with this? 

He feels Steve’s stare like a physical touch, but he ignores it. For now. Instead, he can only wonder what it would be like to pretend to be normal. Can he be normal? While Steve is here, in town. Steve said so himself, he isn’t a forever guy. He won’t be here long, and he  _ notices  _ Bucky. Maybe it’s only because Bucky is some kind of challenge. Steve probably has people throwing themselves at him all the time, so of course the one who hangs back is going to get noticed. But Bucky can use that, can’t he? He doesn’t want forever. He’s too screwed up to even think about forever, right? Replacing Brock as the last person who touched him isn’t a horrible idea. 

He lets his own gaze drift to Becca. She’s pretending to build a bike, but she’s intently watching Steve, concern etched on her forehead. There’s no doubt Becca wants Bucky to move forward with his life. She practically gift-wrapped Steve for him. But Becca doesn’t know Steve the way Bucky does. 

The real question is would it be fair to use Steve to get over his lack of confidence? Or, better yet, would that make Bucky a shitty person in doing so? Probably. And if there’s one thing Bucky doesn’t want to be in life, it’s a shitty person. 

Everyone would be better off if he went back to blending into the woodwork. There. That settles that. Steve is only here for a few more days. Bucky will simply go back to be being his normal, quiet self. Steve will get the hint. Steve will move on. Bucky will move on. Everything will be okay. 

He twists the wrench one more time, making sure the bike is safe. Because after all, being safe is important in this world. 

* * *

Steve

* * *

Bucky is hiding from him. 

He watches the way the brunet does it, noting when each of Bucky’s family members notice his withdrawal and when they decide to allow him the space. Bucky has poker tells. Quiet smiles aren’t real. The way he deftly turns conversations back to any subject that isn’t him. The way he finds tiny chores that pull him away but make him appear to still be present. The way he finds pockets of solitude in a house full of people. 

Steve’s not the only one who notices, but he’ll bet Bucky thinks he has them all fooled. His family loves him, worries about him, but doesn’t push him. Steve, on the other hand, really wants to push him. He shouldn’t have told Bucky that he scares him. It made the brunet pull back too much. 

He respects Bucky’s need for quiet. For solitude. But he resents the space that Bucky puts between them. It’s his right, of course, but Steve hates it. Hates that Bucky things he needs it. Hates that it isn’t even just about Steve, but those assholes who hurt him too. 

But what can Steve do? Spend the rest of his life in this town convincing Bucky to move on from those idiots and then leave Bucky just when he comes around? 

It’s been almost forty-eight hours since they built the bikes. He hasn’t been alone with Bucky since. His time is coming to a close. He saw his car yesterday. It’s almost done. A real beauty. Midnight blue with a white nose stripe, sitting on chrome racing rims for a great muscle car stance. And when the interior is done, Steve will be on his way. Riding out of town like a man with the sole mission of getting far from this place. 

He just… can’t stop thinking about the night Bucky hugged him. The way the brunet clung to him, as if desperate for the touch just as much as Steve was. It began so awkwardly, but then something changed. At least, it had for Steve. Was it platonic? Fuck no. But it hadn’t been a prelude to sex either. And touching Bucky, being touched, something fundamental changed inside in him. A seismic shift. But it hadn’t been the same for Bucky. 

Steve wants him. To be inside him. To claim him. To make Bucky his. Part of him wants to make slow, sweet love to him. But if he’s being honest, part of him wants to fuck Bucky into the mattress. He wants Bucky to get dirty and nasty as fuck. He wants to find what gets Bucky off and set him free. He wants him addicted to Steve’s cock, and he wants to cover Bucky in his cum. 

But that isn’t going to happen. Bucky doesn’t want to see where this can go-- because they both know it’s going nowhere. He was upfront with Bucky about noticing him, and it made Bucky stop talking to him altogether. Can’t get more straightforward than that. 

But that doesn’t stop his gut from clenching because Bucky’s ignoring him. After dinner, the family gathers around the television for yet another Christmas movie-- this one all in black and white. Steve’s bored but also absorbed by watching the family interact with each other. It’s like a really well-run unit. 

Eventually Bucky leans close to his mom when the movie gets paused for a snack refill break. “Mom,” he says, taking her hand in his and toying with her fingers, “you look exhausted. Why don’t you call it a night?” There’s a frown on his face, pulling his pretty plump lips down. Someday, some guy is going to have the right and the privilege to kiss them smooth. 

“I can’t. It’s time for the movie,” she says back. 

Bucky sends a glance to Becca, and she picks up the argument. “Mom, we’ve all seen it a hundred times. You need to get some rest to knock out this bug. The party is tomorrow and you don’t want to miss that.” With the added pressure from the other siblings, Winnie agrees. 

And as soon as she leaves the room, Bucky announces he’s driving into town to grab some things from his apartment. 

“Take Steve with you,” Becca suggests, to Steve’s surprise. Barnsey has never been stupid. Why would she trust a guy like Steve with her unmated omega brother? 

“I’m sure Steve has better things to do,” Bucky says, his cheeks turning red. 

He doesn’t have anything better to do, but that doesn’t explain why words are coming out of his mouth before he decides to say them. “I’d love to see the Christmas lights in town again.”  _ Smooth _ . 

Bucky picks at a nonexistent loose thread of his sweater. “You saw them the other night.” 

“But I want to see them again.” 

“Good, it’s settled,” Becca says. “Steve, that hat you wanted to borrow is in my room. You can come grab it and go.” 

She’s not even trying to be subtle. Steve never asked to borrow a hat. She must be choosing the time to give him the shovel talk. Which is good. But then he remembers the beautiful babies she wants to saddle him with and start second guessing if the drive to town is a good idea. 

But he follows after her and once he gets inside Becca’s room, she grabs a hat off the desk and shoves it into his chest. “You’re one of the best guys I know, but you fuck with my brother and no one will find your body. Just so we’re clear.” 

Steve couldn’t have heard her right. “What the hell, Barnsey? You’re the one pushing me to go with him. It was your idea.” 

Becca folds her arms across her chest, her stance deceptively relaxed but likely ready to spring into action. “You could be good for him. He could be good for you. But if you hurt his feelings like--” 

“Don’t say their names if you are about to put me in the same line-up.” 

That gets her to pause. “He… he told you?” 

“Yeah. Buck told me.” 

The muscle in Becca’s jaw ticks. “He gets stuck in his head. I understand, I do, but it kills me that he hadn’t been able to get them all the way out yet. I just don’t want to push him from the frying pan into the fucking fire. You have my permission to date him--” 

“Bucky would kick your ass if he heard you say that, and if I didn’t know you, I’d be tempted to do it for him. He doesn’t need permission from you or anyone else--” 

Becca narrows her eyes. “Damn it, you know what I mean. Just don’t hurt him.” 

“I’m not staying, Barnsey. There’s no reason for me to start something I can’t finish.” 

“You could stay.” 

“And do what? There’s nothing for me here.” 

Becca gets quiet. “You don’t have to start something. Just… just make him feel good about himself again. Give him some attention, you know? He needs to feel noticed and wanted again.” 

Bucky doesn’t need that from another man, he needs that from himself. But if Becca doesn’t get that, it isn’t up to Steve to explain it to him. 

“Permission to be excused?” Steve says eventually. 

Becca shakes her head. “Don’t forget to wear the damn hat.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky

* * *

He presses himself against the back of his bedroom door, trying to get his breath into his locked lungs. __

_ Give him some attention, you know? He needs to feel noticed and wanted again. _

Is it possible to die of utter mortification? His big sister feels she needs to coax her friend into giving him attention? Dear  _ fuck _ . Could he just die now? 

The least they could have done was close the fucking door. He was just about to enter the room when he overheard them.  _ Pull yourself together, Bucky, _ he tells himself, forcing the tears at bay even though they’re dying to be shed. 

He inhales slowly-- in, out, in, and out again-- until he gets his lungs working properly again. He just has to power through this night. Neither of them can ever know he heard that conversation.  _ Never _ . 

Besides, he’s been through worse humiliation and lived to tell. 

A knock at his door makes him jolt and he damn near squeaks before his hand clamps over his mouth. “You ready to go, mistletoe?” 

Damn him. Why is it that of all people, Steve is the one who makes his insides feel all weird. Makes him one to fucking present on his knees and let the man fill him up to have his babies. They  _ would  _ be some really pretty babies though… 

Another knock echoes into Bucky’s back as Steve tries again. “Bucky?” 

One more breath. In. Out. His hands clench as he rights himself. 

He opens the door, schooling his face into a blank expression. “Yep. I’m ready.” He brushes past Steve, down the stairs, to the front door, ignoring Becca’s goodbye. He starts his car and avoids the temptation to fill the awkward silence after he gets in and buckles up. Being a good host, he turns on the radio and internally cringes as  Michael Bublé fills the car. Maybe he’s not such a great host because he leaves the station on, hiding his own wincing by tapping his fingers on the wheel as if he’s enjoying the song. There’s a shit load more of awkward silence but Steve just sits there like it isn’t affecting him, and knowing him, it probably isn’t. 

“Did you like high school?” Steve asks when they pass the schools. 

“Yes.” 

“Were you in any sports?” 

“No.” 

The next song eventually comes on. Lo and behold, it’s another Bublé, only this time he’s singing about Santa Claus coming to town. They must be doing a goddamn marathon.  _ Great _ . 

He turns down a residential street that likes to do the light show, each house competing with the others on the block-- and getting a little nuttier each year. 

“I bet you were a good student.” 

Bucky only shrugs. 

In the passenger seat, he hears Steve sigh. “You’re chatty tonight.” 

Breathe. In. Out. 

“I didn’t invite you, Steve. You wanted to see the lights. I didn’t promise you conversation.” 

Steve squares his jaw and turns his head slowly. “Are you mad at me for something? You’ve been ignoring me the last couple of days. And all these one-word answers are getting a little old.” 

He shrugs. “Sorry I’m not entertaining enough for you.” 

Steve holds up his hands as if he’s surrendering, silently telling Bucky to stop. And as usual, when someone tries to calm a person down by telling them to calm down, it doesn’t fucking work. Bucky’s hands go tight around the steering wheel. 

“I don’t expect you to entertain me,” Steve continues. “I just thought… It doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong.” 

They don’t speak again until they get to Bucky’s apartment. It’s a nice complex, all indoors, and secure as hell. It’s also one that gives everyone their own designated parking spots, which he wastes no time in getting to, jerking into park. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he pops open his door. 

But, Steve is getting out too. He grins over at Bucky. “Oh, no. I want to see your place.” 

“I don’t think--” 

But Steve’s already out and is waiting for Bucky to do the same. And then follows closely behind Bucky as he leads them through the main entrance. He opts out of the elevator because he definitely doesn’t want to be confined into a small, quiet place, when he can be moving instead. But then once he’s taking Steve up the stairs, he’s conscious that Steve’s eyes could be on his ass as he goes up. 

But probably not. 

His coat covers his ass anyway. 

He passes the third floor and glances at Nat’s door, wondering if she’ll be at home or with her boyfriend, Clint. Nat is good for distractions. He enjoys living in the same complex as her because there is always something crazy about to happen in Nat’s world. Sometimes he swears she’s a secret spy or some shit like that. Living close to someone like that is as close to crazy as Bucky will ever want to get-- but at least  _ she’s  _ still entertaining. 

Once he’s inside his apartment, he tells Steve to stay in the living room while he gets what he needs from his bedroom. Which is a bit fat nothing. He only said he wanted to go home so he could have a break in his quiet space surrounded by his own things. 

Nervous sweats break out over his body, so he throws his coat and sweater off and picks out a new shirt. He pulls a too-large long-sleeved t-shirt from his drawer that swallows him up as soon as he puts it on. He stares at his reflection in his full length mirror, frowns. He tucks the hem of his shirt into his pants and then untucks it, leaving it be. He hates it but now is not the time to analyze his wardrobe. No, what he needs to do is get Captain Hottie out of his apartment. 

It’s clear by now that he’s not going to get his break tonight. Apparently it’s too much to ask for an hour or two to decompress. 

He’s definitely not pouting when he grabs a duffel bag from his closet and stuffs it with some random things so he looks legit. It’s utterly ridiculous that he has to defend himself. 

“I think your apartment is amazing.” 

Steve’s voice makes him jump. The man has  _ got  _ to stop sneaking up on him. 

He whirls around, clutching the duffel to his chest. It takes him a second or two to find his voice. “It’s nice, yes,” he nods, looking around the room like a dork. “It’d be amazing if it came with an indoor pool.” 

Steve steps into Bucky’s bedroom. Uninvited. “It feels like you. Warm. And I don’t know… cozy I guess.” 

He snorts. Steve thinks he’s cozy. Basically he’s a twenty-two year old Grinch who shuns any and all strangers whenever possible. But sure, he’s cozy,  _ whatever _ . It’s not like it bothers him. Before Steve showed up, that was the way Bucky liked it. Nothing wrong with that. 

“What the hell is your problem, Buck?” Steve crosses his impressively thick, muscled arms over his equally burly chest. Steve is big and such an Alpha and is blocking the doorway, and why can’t he just go away so Bucky can find his center again? 

“I don’t have a problem. Except, maybe, for the big man in my bedroom swearing at me. I could do without that.” 

Steve takes the duffel bag from Bucky’s arms. “Don’t even pretend you’re intimidated by me. I want to know what changed. Something happened the day we built bikes.”

_ Yeah, no shit.  _

He pulls at his sleeves so that they cover his hands. “Nothing happened,” he mumbles. “I’m giving you an out. Why won’t you take it?” 

Steve frowns. Great. Now there’s a big man frowning in his doorway. Well, too damn bad. “I don’t understand why you think I want an out. I thought we were friends.” 

That’s what he had thought so too. That’s why he pulled back after the day in the workshop-- because he didn’t want to use Steve to get over his own insecurities. It’s laughable now, Steve thinking Bucky was doing him some kind of favor. Steve didn’t even want to be with him. 

He tries to pull his bag out of Steve’s hands, but Steve doesn’t let go. Of course he doesn’t let go. 

“I don’t want to be the reason you withdraw from everyone around you,” Steve says. “Ever since I told you that you scare me, you’ve gone into your shell like a damned turtle.” 

He tugs harder at the bag. A  _ turtle _ ? “How long has my sister been convincing you to be nice to me? Is that the reason you came here in the first place? Her poor little Omega brother needs a nice Alpha like you to show him some attention? Just be nice to him, Steve… throw him a compliment here and there. How far does she want you to go?” A pathetic laughter escapes him. “You really had me going there, the night you told me Becca wouldn’t want you touching her little brother. Really, it was a good one.” He lets go of the stupid bag when it’s clear Steve won’t. He knows he’s egging Steve on-- to what end, Bucky doesn’t know, but damn it, he wants the man to react. 

He’s angry,  _ so  _ angry. Embarrassment burns in his stomach like a drink gone bad. Something potent. But instead of sparking a similar rage in Steve, the man drops Bucky’s bag on the floor.  _ Calmly _ . 

Fuck! Why is the man so damn calm?!

Steve doesn’t even raise his voice. “Is that what you think?” he asks. “That she had to convince me to be nice to you?” Steve’s voice is measured. Too measured. That’s how Bucky knows Steve isn’t as composed as he appears to be. Steve feels it too, but he’s not the guy who gets red hot with rage. No, Steve goes ice cold. “I guess you overheard her talking earlier?” 

“I guess I did.” 

“Now this makes a little more sense then.” Steve takes a step forward. Crowding Bucky. “Don’t back down from me.” 

Bucky juts his chin out, a bold move considering he’s facing down an Alpha. It’s a no-no for any Omega. But he’s not backing down… not anymore. “I don’t intend to.” 

“Good,” Steve rumbles with a grin. 

He never expressed anger toward Brock. Not even Jack, afterwards. He never felt he had the right to. Not after so many days and nights thinking he had just as much blame in what happened to him as they had. But even before then, when he thought he’d been in love with Brock. He’d never been angry. 

But now he does. He’s angry that he doesn’t know how to handle a man who shows interest in him. Angry that he wants to go back to running and throwing himself into bed, pulling the covers over his head and pushing everyone away. Angry that he’s not brave enough to do anything else. Angry that he can’t trust that he’s mistaken interest for pity. And logically, he knows it isn’t Steve’s fault. 

Part of him feels like he should be tucking all the anger back in. Part of him wants Steve to see everything. 

Steve pulls the hat off his head, clenching it in his fist near his thigh. “I told you things. Things I never told another soul. Your sister has nothing to do with us.” 

“I heard her--” 

“That was the first time she’s said anything like that to me. I hope you believe that. But even if you don’t-- you have to believe that night we had together.”

Bucky’s brain tries to reject what he is saying. But he can’t turn off what he feels. “Why?” 

“Why did your sister ask me to be nice to you? Because she’s worried about you. And she has no idea that I’ve already kissed you. That I’ve been in your bedroom. That I’ve felt closer to you than any other person in my entire life.” 

He closes his eyes, trying to block out the conflicting emotions warring inside of himself. Steve could be lying. Covering. Trying to make Bucky feel good. Just like Becca asked him to. 

Steve’s palm on Bucky’s cheek makes him open his eyes. “I’m going to kiss you again. And if you still feel any doubt that I’m here with you because I can’t stay away, I’ll walk out of this town and you never have to see me again.” 

Steve’s going to kiss him? Every nerve ending in his body sings a hallelujah chorus. But does he want Steve to kiss him? Yes, no,  _ yes _ . Fuck yes. The man just keeps turning Bucky’s world upside down until he doesn’t know what he knows or feels anymore. Could a kiss really decide that for him? One kiss? It was one kiss that started all of this. 

“What if I do believe you. What happens then?” What if Steve can’t stay away? He’s not ready for either possibility. 

Steve moves his hand down, sliding it to the back of Bucky’s neck. “I have no idea,” he says, lowly. “You ready to find?” 

Is he? Is he brave enough to just go with it, not knowing what comes next? His well-planned life was a joke, so maybe it’s time to get away from that mindset. The problem is that he’s still angry and embarrassed and confused. Why does Steve even like him? How had Steve even seen him? The shadow he’s lived under since the incident has cloaked him so well for so long. 

Steve’s dark gaze is zeroed in on him. He sees Bucky. He knows Bucky’s flaws, and yet he still doesn’t turn away. Isn’t disgusted. He’s truly not ready, but he still nods. 

Steve shakes his head. “Not good enough. Tell me, Buck. Use your words.” 

He rolls his eyes at Steve. He can’t just say the words Steve wants to hear. He’s not like that. 

Steve tugs on the back of Bucky’s neck, pulling him closer. He stares down at Bucky’s mouth, but doesn’t kiss him. Steve won’t be gentle, but he won’t push him either. And that’s all Bucky needs. 

He swallows, letting his hands reach out and clutch at the ends of Steve’s coat. “Kiss me, Steve. I want you to kiss me. And we’ll find out what happens next.” 

* * *

Steve

* * *

That’s all he needs to hear. 

He doesn’t want to waste time with soft, coaxing kisses. Not when Bucky needs to know how much he affects him, and unfortunately his words haven’t been working. He holds Bucky firmly, one hand cupping the back of his head, and slams his mouth into Bucky’s. The younger man opens for him instantly, allowing Steve to plunder with his tongue, his teeth, his lips. 

He knows he needs to slow down, but he can’t. This man who pretends to be invisible writhes against him, pulling Steve in like the tide, and he’s completely, utterly powerless. The rough demand of his mouth should have frightened the brunet. It frightens the hell out of Steve. This kiss is against all of the rules Steve set for himself… for them.

But he wants more. He needs more. 

Bucky unzips Steve’s coat, pushing him away so that he can wrench it off of his soldiers. He pulls Bucky back as soon as he’s done, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. Bucky’s gasped breath shocks the silence when Steve licks against the tantalizing column of Bucky’s exposed neck. “Oh, god. Steve, that feels so good.” 

His hands slide under Bucky’s shirt, sweeping across the soft skin of his abdomen. Bucky shivers when Steve’s fingertips graze one of his nipples. 

Steve pauses, pulling back to look at his face. Fuck, does Steve  _ want _ . He’s never let himself long for anything before. Not when he grew up knowing that it makes a person weak to need something they might not get. 

But  _ oh  _ does he want Bucky. All of him. He wants the taste of Bucky on his lips. The slide of his soft skin under his hands. Steve wants to bury himself balls deep inside of him. He wants to paint Bucky’s skin with his come. And he can have that all right now. He knows Bucky would let him. But it wouldn’t be enough. 

He doesn’t want just one night. He can’t make himself lose everything for one night. He wants Bucky’s smiles. The light in his pretty grey eyes. Bucky’s laughter and his tears and all of the things that Steve isn’t entitled to. 

And most of all, he wants to erase Bucky’s fear-- the shame that wars on his face even know. He wants to undo everything those assholes said and did to Bucky that has him twisted up inside. 

But he’s not the one who can do that. Only Bucky can overcome that. 

“Why’d you stop kissing me?” Bucky asks, and Steve’s heart breaks at the rejection in his angelic voice. 

“I don’t want you to regret me,” he whispers thickly. He eases his hands out from under Bucky’s shirt. “I want to take everything you offer, but I don’t think I have enough to give you in return. But I especially don’t want you to regret anything that happens between us.” 

Bucky’s gaze darts around the room like he’s just realized where he is and what he’s doing. He shakes his arms out, as if shaking Steve out of his system. 

“We’ve only known each other for what… four days?” Steve presses further. 

Something flashes across Bucky’s face but it’s so brief that Steve can’t name it. Instead, he can only watch as Bucky takes a step back. Withdrawing. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting at them as Steve has watched him do for days now. He won’t meet Steve’s eyes. 

Bucky’s fingers tangle together and he pulls at the hem of his shirt. When he speaks, his voice is too quiet. “Is… is it me? Like, how I look or… or what they--” 

Steve cuts him off. “Bucky, I wish more than anything that I could swoop in like a knight in shining armor. I wish that I had a secret key to make you feel good again. That I could heal you by-- by just being with you, making you feel good. I might even be good for you.” He eases back a step and it pains him more than anything. “But you have to get better for you, not someone else. Your head needs to make you feel good by itself. And I can’t fix that.” He’s just close enough that he can reach out and trace a finger down the curve of Bucky’s cheek. “Only you can do that.” 

For a long moment, Bucky can only stare at him. Until, he blinks as if the room has suddenly gone bright. “You’re… right.” 

Steve grins. “It happens once in a while.” 

“You kissed me like you want me. That’s real, right? That’s not some twisted--” 

“If your sister knew the things I want to do to you, she’d lock you in a tower and throw me in a dungeon. I think you’re the prettiest damn person I’ve ever laid my eyes on, Buck.”

“You called me cozy.” 

“I called your apartment cozy. And believe me, that was the first time I’ve ever said that word out loud.” 

Bucky tilts his head, studying him. “You haven’t had a lot of comfort in this life, have you?” 

“Not in a long time, no.” 

“Is that something you want? Comfort?” 

He thought he understood everything a few minutes ago, but Bucky just flipped everything and now the whole world is tilted and strange. And truthfully, he doesn’t know the answer to that. Is Bucky trying to trick him? What does Bucky want him to say? Is Steve looking for a cozy place to hide after all that he’s seen and done? Is he using Bucky for something? Or maybe comfort, the peace he’s felt with Bucky, is what is telling him Bucky is the one thing he’s willing to yearn for after so many years of not allowing himself to want. Bucky makes him ache in all the places he opened inside of Steve. Ache for the omega in front of him, the life they could have. 

When he speaks, it is nothing but the truth. “I just want you, Buck.” 

Slowly, Bucky nods as though his concentration is elsewhere. Outside of the room. And then, “I want… I want to dress for you.” 

On any normal occasion, those words would have Steve reacting quite eagerly, but Bucky’s expression makes him hesitate. Before he can do or say anything, Bucky is grabbing his hand and pulling him into the living room, forcing him to sit down in the middle of the couch. He doesn’t say a word as Bucky steps away, hands shaking, as he stands in front of Steve. 

“What--”

“I want you to sit there and I’m going to go into my room and change. I’m going to come back out and you’re going to  _ look  _ at me. Okay?” 

Steve eyes the brunet carefully. He can’t begin to understand Bucky’s motives, but if Bucky needs this, Steve will be there. “Are you sure?” he asks. 

“No,” Bucky breathes out. “I don’t know.” 

Steve doesn’t know a lot of things, but he does know that this is not a great idea. “Buck--” 

“I need to take it back. I’m taking it back.” 

Steve understands, but still, he asks, “Taking what back?” 

When Bucky meets his eyes, there’s something defiant looking back at Steve. Something strong. “My life.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky

* * *

Steve doesn’t understand and that’s okay. He doesn’t need to. Bucky himself doesn’t even understand it, though it is probably important that he does. 

His hands tremble as he pulls out the clothes stashed away at the bottom of his closet, tucked away in a chest that was bolted closed. His fingers shake so badly that he can’t undo the lock until he remembers that Steve is in the next room over waiting for him. The mere realization of Steve’s presence stills him enough that he gets it open, closing his eyes briefly at the click of bolts unlocking. 

His eyes open a second later and when he looks down, he breathes out a shuddering sound. He knows those clothes even though they’ve been hidden from his sight for so long. 

He remembers that night so vividly. How much fun it had been. The burn of the alcohol, the laughter-- so much laughter-- until the laughter turned into screams and the hoarseness burned his throat instead. 

He reaches down into the large trunk and starts to pull out garments. Shirts, pants, shorts, leggings, his  _ nice  _ underwear. All of the clothes that he wore once upon a time that he knew made him look good until looking good wasn’t what he wanted anymore. They were clothes that showed off his ass, hugged his thighs like sleeves, shirts that tampered at the waist and showed off his delicate curves that would always get more than one head turning in his direction. Those were the shorts that rose high on his thighs when he wore them around the house during the summers or out in the yard when he tried to play catch with his brothers. Those leggings that would outline his dick and let the whole world see if he wanted them to. Then the silk underwear that he’d bought with the hopes and excitement for the moment Brock would peel them off of him. 

After the incident, he’d cleaned out his closet and hadn’t looked back. 

Until now. 

With a final, steadying breath, he grabs an outfit and gets to work. 

***

He stands for a solid five minutes at his door. He feels ridiculous and his heart is racing like a goddamn stallion but he knows why he got himself into this outfit and he knows he is going to go out there and show Steve, even if he dies of a fucking heart attack in order to do so. 

But he keeps standing there, his feet rooted as if made of cement. Breathe. In, out. Do it again. In, out. 

“Buck…” Steve calls gently, making him jolt. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It’ll still be okay. If you’re not ready--”

“No, no,” he says, clenching his eyes shut and nodding his head. “I’m ready. Just… just close your eyes.” He waits a minute, straining to hear, but then he remembers that Steve won’t be making any noise by closing his eyes. He rolls his eyes at his own stupidity just as he takes another deep breath. “Okay, I’m coming out. Promise me, Steve. Promise you won’t open your eyes until I tell you to.” 

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course, Buck. I promise you.” 

And strangely, although really not that strange at all, every instinct he has trusts Steve exclusively. He  _ has  _ to do this. He’s tired of hiding. 

Grabbing the door knob of his bedroom door, he eases it open. The living room is dark apart from the light turned on in the entryway but his gaze still locks on Steve and every feature on the man is crystal clear in Bucky’s eyes. 

His bare feet feel cold against the hardwood floor as he moves further into the room. Normally he’d be in a pair of fuzzy socks but he’d opted out for this moment. As he moves across the room his attention shifts from Steve’s face, down to his outfit, and then the lamp that he turns on so that they can both see each other better once both of their eyes are open. He clicks it on and takes one last deep breath as he shifts to stand in front of the Alpha on his couch. 

His hands beg to claw at something, maybe pick apart his fancy shirt or scratch at the fabric of his jeans. But he doesn’t. He keeps his fists clenched at his sides and stares straight ahead. Steve seems calm enough, but there’s a slight furrow between his brow that says he’s worried-- which it would make sense that he is. For all Steve knows, Bucky could be having a goddamn breakdown.

Internally, he snorts. Maybe he is having a breakdown. It would certainly explain his behavior at the moment. 

He looks down at his clothes again. God, he hasn’t put these on in so long. Part of him had been afraid they wouldn’t fit, but nope, it all still fits him like a glove. 

And now he wants Steve to see, too. 

His throat feels like it’s swollen shut when he opens his mouth, but he gets the words out no matter how much it hurts. “Steve… you can open your eyes now.” 

And slowly, he watches as Steve does exactly as he’s told. 

Clear, ocean blue eyes meet Bucky head on and they don’t waiver up or down an inch, just lock onto his face. “Tell me what you want me to do,” Steve says quietly. He’s still not looking anywhere apart from Bucky’s face. 

Maybe knowing he holds the power here makes it easier to breathe because suddenly, he’s not scared. Steve can see him without Bucky having to be on display, so why would this make it any different? He’s already been splayed out beneath the microscope. 

Bucky licks at his lips as he drags a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. He knows what he wants. There’s no doubt about it, not anymore. He shifts on his feet but he doesn’t look away. “I want you to look at me, Steve.” 

Steve still looks apprehensive but when Bucky nods his head, showing he’s serious, Steve finally drops his gaze. Bucky watches every second of the inspection. 

Steve’s eyes catch on the exposed skin of his collarbones, the open collar of his shirt is wide open like he’d always worn it once upon a time. Steve’s gaze goes lower, to Bucky’s waist, and he has to see Bucky’s curves, the slim line of his waist that Steve’s large hands could easily encompass. 

Steve doesn’t eye Bucky’s crotch and strangely, he finds relief in that, but it doesn’t make sense that when Steve finally looks at his legs and thighs, Bucky wants his gaze to darken. He wants to see Steve  _ want  _ him. 

It makes him feel… powerful watching Steve’s face look so eagerly at him. It’s a look of hunger, there’s no doubt, but it’s also warm, welcoming. It makes him thrive. 

“I…” he breaks the silence that’s captured them both, “I like my legs. And my…” Somehow he can’t say it, but that’s okay because he can show Steve instead. He turns in a slow circle and rubs his palms down his thighs as he arches his hips back just enough that it still looks natural, giving him an even curvier profile. “I like wearing pants that show off my goods,” he says with a breathless laugh, his eyes darting to meet Steve’s. “It makes me feel good when I know I look good.” 

Steve nods slowly and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but Bucky’s quick to shake his head, making Steve stop. 

“Not yet, Steve,” he says and then he’s pausing once more, not sure if he’s going too fast. He might be, but he’s doing this  _ his  _ way and that’s all that matters. There is no right and wrong here. It’s just him. And Steve. 

And that means something, he knows it. 

He inhales slowly before his fingers make their way to the hem of his pants. They pause for the briefest of seconds but all it takes is another glance at Steve and they’re moving again. He unbuttons his pants and starts to tug them down. 

Steve’s quick to catch on. He breathes in sharply, shaking his head and straightening up on the couch. “Bucky, don’t--” But then he stops once he catches sight of the shorts Bucky has on underneath. 

_ Silly Alpha _ , Bucky’s brain laments. It still warms him from the inside out though. 

He slides the rest of his pants off and kicks them to the side. Under the low light of the living room, his legs seem to glow with their nakedness. They’re simple black shorts but they ride high on his thighs. They sit just an inch or two beneath his ass, barely longer than a pair of boxer briefs. But they also aren’t the usual kind of shorts most guys wear, that’s for certain. 

With his pants gone, he moves up to his button-up shirt where he doesn’t fumble once as he undoes each and every single one of them. When he’s done, he pushes the shirt from his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor, revealing the skin-tight tank top that stops above his naval. It’s the most naked he’s been in a long, long time. And especially in front of someone. 

Again, he does a slow spin and he tries his best to not stumble. His arms are bare, his legs, his waist. Only the important parts are kept hidden, but they really aren’t that hidden either. Before the incident, he would have walked around his house freely dressed like this. In his yard, too. And realizing how much he’s changed almost makes him want to cry. He thinks he would if he couldn’t feel himself regaining himself by the second. 

He raises his chin, smiling just barely at Steve. “Tell me what you see, Steve.” 

Steve’s eyes don’t leave his body for a long, thick moment. His attention seems to be taking all of Bucky in, all of the parts that he hasn’t seen before. His gaze is heavier than ever and it soaks into Bucky’s skin, making the air feel so hot. He’s got Steve’s full and undivided attention. 

When Steve takes a breath, his whole chest expands with it. “I see,” he starts, “a beautiful man. A strong man, stronger than many people will ever be in their life. I see courage. Innocence.” Steve tilts his head and there’s something so devastatingly soft on his face that Bucky feels his heart clench. “But I also see… the true you. I’ve gotten to know you for these past few days, but this is the first time I’m meeting the whole Bucky Barnes. Unhidden. Free. You were beautiful then, but now… like this? Buck, there’s no words for this.” 

Throughout it all, Bucky hadn’t taken a single breath. It keeps building in his chest, getting higher and higher, making him go all fuzzy. 

“You’re an angel, mistletoe. Absolutely perfect.” 

The tears wield up in his eyes but it’s not because of sadness. No, nowhere near sadness. He sobs and the noise is loud, rough, but then it’s shifting into something higher, making Steve look all concerned again. Because out of nowhere, Bucky’s diving into the man’s arms and laughing. The laugh must have been like a stopper because when it comes out, it releases the stale air he’s been holding in since the night of the incident. Pounds and pounds of air expel into Steve’s shoulder.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there in Steve’s arms, but what he does know is that Steve never lets go of him once. The man’s strong arms stay wrapped tight around him, making Bucky feel so incredibly safe and wanted. So… loved. Cherished. 

It isn’t until he’s calmed down and gone quiet in Steve’s grasp that Steve pats his back, his chest rumbling as he hummed, smiling down at him. He shifts them to the side, positioning Bucky on the separate couch cushion so that they sit beside one another. “Talk to me, Bucky. What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

He sinks into his couch. He’s never been high before, but he’d be willing to bet it would feel something like this. “I feel so much lighter, Steve. So… free. I know changing clothes isn’t something that--” 

“Uh-uh,” Steve tuts at him, shaking his head. “No, you needed that. I’m just honored you chose me to share that with, Buck.” Steve sits back against the cushions and lifts up his arm so that Bucky can settle in underneath it. He pulls Bucky close into his side. “I don’t want you to ever think badly of yourself, okay? Everyone has their insecurities but you don’t have any, you got that? If you think otherwise, then you’re gonna have to take it up against me.” 

He snorts but Steve is still looking at him, seeing something no one has ever before. There’s a shift that happens across Steve’s face and it just looks… heartbreaking. Steve gently reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair out of Bucky’s face. “You deserve so much better,” Steve whispers and the bubble they’ve been in pops. Or at least it would have, if Bucky allowed it. He doesn’t want to think about that. 

Instead, he rubs his cheek against Steve’s flannel shirt. Never did he think he’d find so much comfort with a man he hardly knows. But Steve is no Brock, or even Jack for that matter. 

“Thank you,” he says eventually, when many minutes have passed by, smiling softly as Steve looks at him. “For tonight. For… everything.” 

“I should be the one saying thank you,” Steve tells him before kissing the top of Bucky’s head. “We should go soon. Your family is going to wonder what happened to us.” 

The slap of rejection starts to creep up his spin, settling in his head. Steve said he was beautiful, an  _ angel _ , but he wants to leave? He just kissed Bucky on the head like he’s a simple kid? Why wasn’t he ravishing Bucky on the spot? 

He pulls out of Steve’s hold, moving into a seated position. “You don’t want… of course not.” 

One sharp tug from Steve, and suddenly Bucky finds himself in the man’s lap. “Of course I want to.” 

Bucky can feel just how much Steve wants as his cock twitches beneath Bucky’s ass, a steady, heady presence. He’d been in this position a few times with Brock but he’d always scrambled away before anything could happen. Now, he wants this. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do, given his complete lack of sexual experience, but this just feels natural with Steve. Like it’s  _ supposed  _ to happen. 

“I don’t think there’s anything I’ve ever wanted more,” Steve continues, his hands running up and down Bucky’s spine. “But… not tonight. And I’ll kick myself later for this, but tonight you’re vulnerable and it wouldn’t be right.” 

“I’m not--” 

Steve puts a finger to Bucky’s lips. “Hush, honey. You are. But you won’t always be. I want you to come to my bed with no regrets. The reasons we don’t work haven’t changed. I’m twelve years older than you, and I’m just passing through. I don’t have anything you need. Not long-term.” 

Steve’s hands shift up and down again, the heat of him searing into Bucky beneath the thin material of his tank top. The man makes him feel too much. Maybe Steve is right… maybe he doesn’t have the defenses for Steve just yet. But just thinking that feels  _ wrong _ . 

“Give yourself a little time to make sure this is what you want. We don’t have a future-- but the present could be amazing.” 

Bucky realizes lots of things then. Steve’s just as scared as he is. Bucky may not know a lot about Alphas, but he’s beginning to understand the one beneath him. Steve’s right-- he is a little vulnerable tonight. He’s been dragging around chains for too long now, but the thing is, Steve isn’t exactly free of his past either. 

“You told me that we were inevitable,” he whispers. 

“I also told you I’m no good for you.” 

He pushes off Steve’s lap. “I don’t need forever or long-term. I understand this is a fling. It’s not like I’m asking for your hand in marriage.” No, but what he is asking for is to give this man his virginity, something he hasn’t really laid out flat for Steve. If Steve were to ask, he wouldn’t deny it, but if he didn’t… well, Bucky wasn’t sure he would say. Afterall, the man wasn’t staying, right? 

Steve doesn’t correct him, so Bucky goes into his bedroom to grab his stuff and throw on the same clothes he left the house in. He’s quick, methodical, but as he turns around to leave, he snags a pair of jeans from the trunk and stuffs them into his bag. Leaving the room, he starts to feel a trace of the guy who wanted to do something unexpected. The guy Bucky’s pushed down for the last few years. 

A fling with Steve is the most dangerous thing he could do, of that he’s certain. 

Perhaps he should just start thinking about getting a tattoo. 

* * *

Steve

* * *

After delivering the bikes to Toys for Tots, sledding on the mountain, and making fancy bows out of ribbon for over an hour-- all of which he’d never done before-- it’s time to get ready for the kids’ party. 

He’s been tasked with helping George get the Santa suit on and get him to the party since the man can’t reach the steering wheel with his extra padding on. To say that it’s unsettling to spend one-on-one time with the father of the beautiful young man he’s currently trying to get into bed would be an understatement. 

Although, getting Bucky into bed wasn’t what he was truly after, was it? He’s had more than one chance to do it, and his cock is certainly hating him for discovering he has a nice-guy side. He’s tense. Grumpy as fuck. And he needs a release that his morning run didn’t provide. He can feel it in his bones that if he doesn’t have Bucky, and soon, he’s going to start a fight. There’s just no other way around it. 

“How’s your car, son?” George asks while Steve attaches the Santa belly. 

“Oh, she’s a real beauty.” 

George chuckles. “And what about you?” 

He latches the belt and prays it’ll hold. “Me?” he asks, partly in confusion. 

Again, George laughs. “Yes, you. What are your plans now?”

He should know the answer to that. He wishes he did. He’s thirty-five years old, but he feels like a kid just graduating high school again. Not the kind of guy a man wants sniffing around his young Omega son, that’s for sure. 

Not when Bucky could get attached, maybe end up pregnant, and then Steve would just stand up and ditch. Not that he would ever do that-- but still, it was the worse case scenario for an Omega. 

“After the Camero, I don’t know.” 

“Lots of men go into law enforcement after the military. Do you need to start working right away?” 

He shook his head, helping George into the fuzzy red jacket. “I didn’t spend much over the years. My car is gonna cost me, but I have a good amount of savings. Plus a retirement pay.” 

George nods. “You should have Bucky go over finance stuff with you. He does all of the finances for my parents, too. He majored in finance so he’s all about numbers and business stuff. He could have gone anywhere but, well, he’s always liked it here. It’s home, y’know?” 

He smiles but doesn’t look up. He’s sure the effect of hearing Bucky’s name is written all over his face. He’s never had it like this for anyone before. A car maybe. Another human being, no. “Maybe I’ll do that.” 

George sits down in the chair and Steve brings over the boots. “You ever think about teaching as a career, Steve?” 

His eyebrows go up. “No, why?” 

“Rebecca tells me all the others learned a lot from you. She thinks you have a knack for it.” The boots need to be tugged onto George’s feet. Hard. George grunts as it slides over his ankle. 

Steve frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t have the education to be a teacher.” 

“There’s the GI Bill.” 

“I think I’m a bit old to start college.” 

“Lots of men your age go to college. Or chance careers and go back to college,” George points out.

He’s never once thought about going to school. Never. He just hadn’t thought he was the schooling type. But now… well. “If I ever went to college for a job, it’d be something for disadvantaged kids.” 

George hangs the beard over his ears but then he perks up, turning interested eyes on Steve. “Really? Like foster kids?” 

Suddenly self-conscious, he hands George the Santa hat. Civilian life has started to take its toll on him. A few days ago he wouldn’t have dared to talk about himself so openly like this. “When I was sixteen my mom was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. She hadn’t been given long and while I was obviously scared about losing her, I was also scared about what would happen when she was gone. I didn’t have any family outside of her so I knew I’d be chucked off somewhere to somebody. I’ve always been hyper aware of the conditions of foster kids ever since.” 

Solemnly, George nods. “Before Winnie became an obstetrician, she worked in pediatrics. She’d come into many of those cases where CPS had to be involved. There were many nights when she would cry herself to sleep because of some of the kids. It’s a tough field to work in but I understand your interest completely. In fact, there’s a program you should look into. You’d get to become advocates for kids in the system. I can give you all of the information later, if you want.” 

He thinks about that the whole drive into town. Thinking about what a difference someone in that kind of profession could do. 

“Hey Santa, is this program a New Jersey thing or is it in other states, too?” 

George shrugs. “I’m not sure, but more than likely it is. I’m only familiar with the program being in this local area though. The program is pretty dominant here, which is a good thing. You know, you could always stay. Now that you know people here. The university is twenty minutes away. Bucky could help you find a place in town.” 

He looks over at George, shooting him a look, but the older man just chuckles, his overly round stomach jiggling. 

“Becca told me you wanted to take Rumlow out with a punch the other day. That’s a ringing endorsement as far as I’m concerned. My son could do worse.” 

“I’d still like a shot at the guy,” he confesses with a grin. “I’d take my odds against his.” 

George smirked beneath the white beard. “Legally, I can’t condone violence or breaking the law, but if you ever happen to find yourself in need of a lawyer…” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

_ My son could do worse.  _ He lets that sink in for the rest of the way to the community center downtown. The implication is there and it scares him shitless once again. 

At the party, he gets swept up in helping Winnie and Peter the librarian for hours, but everytime he steals a glance at Bucky, his breath gets sucked from his lungs. Since last night, Bucky hasn’t changed much on the outside-- he’s wearing his hair down loose and free, curling against his jaw, and the sweater he has on is a dark blue one that nearly dwarfs him. But, he’s wearing jeans that fit him properly and hug his legs so prettily, that Steve can’t help but smile at the obvious gain of confidence Bucky’s started to achieve in just a few hours. Plus, Bucky’s practically shining and he’s smiling so genuinely, looking so free. 

Somehow he knows that Bucky could be in a nun uniform and he’d still think the man glowed, easily putting everyone else in the room to shame. 

He’s going insane. 

Winnie finds him when the event starts to die down, when it’s time to fold the tables and put the chairs away. “Steve, thank you so much for helping tonight. I wish I felt worse about using my houseguest as hired help,” she admits, smiling softly at him. 

He can only shake his head, returning the smile. “I like feeling useful,” he says in response. Which is true. He’s never minded a bit of hard work. Especially when it’s for something like this. 

“Well I hope you also feel included. You fit in with the community so well tonight.” 

He adds another chair to the stack. It’s starting to feel like Bucky’s parents are up to something. “Winnie, you know I can’t-- Dr. Barnes?” He stops when he watches as the woman turns pale, her eyes glassy. “Are you okay?” He thinks she’s going to answer, but instead her eyes close and she starts to fall. With sharpened instincts, he rushes to her side, catching her and lowering himself to the ground. “I need help over here!” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!

Bucky

* * *

He really hates hospitals. The smell, the blinding white lights, the  _ waiting _ . 

He’s been pacing the too-small waiting room of the ER for nearly an hour now. There are too many people in the small space. Too many voices. Too many questions. Unanswered ones. 

And there’s Steve. Walking towards him. Game face on. In control. Steve has Bucky’s coat in his hands. “C’mon,” he says, taking Bucky beneath his arm, “Let’s go for a walk.” 

A walk? Out  _ there _ ? When his entire family is here, waiting for-- He shakes his head rapidly. “I can’t. What if they come out to tell us something, Steve, and I’m not here?” 

“Your family will find you. You have your phone?” Phone? Uh… yeah, in his pocket. He pats just to make sure, nodding. “Good. And I have mine. When they find out something, they’ll send out the word.” 

Bucky frowns, torn between staying and going. He doesn’t want to miss anything. They need him here.

Steve ducks his head down and speaks low in his ear. “I’ve been watching you for a week now. I know the signs, and you need some space and fresh air. And probably a snack.” 

They’re close. Sharing the same air. But he doesn’t move away. Steve radiates strength, and he wants to bask in it, absorb it. 

“What signs?” he asks in confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

Steve gestures to his eyes. “You get a look in your eyes when you’ve had too much people time.” When Bucky scoffs, Steve squeezes his hands. “Baby, let me help you.” 

He almost passes out at that. If Steve is going to call him baby, Bucky will never be able to resist anything the man ever suggests. He knows it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a nickname. Like mistletoe. But fuck does he like it. 

Steve slips the coat onto Bucky’s shoulders, takes Bucky’s hand into his, and leads them towards the hospital entrance. 

The night air is crisp, and snow if falling. Some of the tension in his muscles lessens as soon as they get outside. Huh, look at that. Steve was right. He had needed to get out of there. 

But only for a few minutes. 

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” he says, but then stops, hit full force with all the thoughts that have been racing through his head since his mom collapsed at the end of the party. “What if my mom is really sick? What if this is her last Christmas? God. She can’t be sick.” 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Steve pulls him into his arms, his hands cupping Bucky’s head protectively. “She’s probably just got some kind of flu. Or she forgot to eat. She’s been feeling under the weather all week, right? I bet she just overdid it tonight trying to make the party special for the kids.” 

He clings to the lapels of Steve’s coat, anchored by the massiveness of the man. He can only hope that Steve is right. Steve  _ has  _ to be right. He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for catching her when she fainted.” 

Steve grins. “Well, she’s not the first person to swoon at my feet.” 

He laughs. He actually laughs. Which only reminds him of how serious this night is. “Thanks for staying with us here tonight. I’m sure you’re tired, too.” 

“I don’t have anywhere else I want to be right now.” Steve lets go of Bucky’s neck so he can look up. Their eyes meet and Steve’s down drift to his mouth. Is Steve going to kiss him? Right now? Outside? “Your lips are turning blue,” Steve says. 

_ Oh _ . Guess not. 

“We should go inside,” Steve suggests. 

He nods. “In just a minute, though, okay? This is nice. Being out here. With you.” 

Steve takes the gloves that are flopping out of Bucky’s pocket and slips them onto Bucky’s hands. “This is the part where I get to say I told you so.” 

Steve takes such care, smoothing the material, making sure they are tucked under Bucky’s coat cuffs. Steve probably doesn’t even know how well he takes care of people. Where had he learned that when he hasn’t had meaningful physical contact in seventeen years? His mom must have been a hell of a lady. He wishes he could have met her.

“Are my lips still turning blue?” 

“A little bit.” 

“Have any ideas how to warm them up?” 

Steve smiles so brightly that his eyes crinkle at the corners, making a rare showing. “I just might, actually.” 

He has to pick himself up on tiptoes and just as he starts to lean forward, a shout has him rearing back. 

“Bucky!” Becca’s voice rings out. Still in Steve’s arms, they turn together towards the doors where Becca is standing. “Dad’s come out. He has news.” 

In his haste to get back inside, he slips on a bit of slush coating the sidewalk. But Steve catches him by the elbow and keeps him upright. He’ll have to remember to thank him. Later. After he knows. 

God, what if it’s really bad? His mom is the center of all of their lives. The idea of losing her…

“Stop expecting the worst,” Steve tells him as the doors slide open. 

How did he even know what Bucky was thinking? He wants to ask but then he sees his dad surrounded by their family. He feels his heart start to pound. “Dad?” he questions as he runs into his father’s open arms. His dad is still wearing the Santa pants and suspenders, so out of place under the fluorescent light that blinks on and off a little. “Is she okay?” 

Everyone huddles in close and Bucky finds himself folded into the ring of family gathered around him. Steve is right behind him and his large hand finds Bucky’s shoulder. He reaches up to cover it with his own, grateful for Steve’s strength right now when he feels in short supply. 

As his dad waits for everyone to gather, he tries reading his father’s face. All he sees is tired. Surely if it was bad, there would be signs. Signs like Steve is so good at picking up on. 

“Sorry for the wait everyone,” his dad begins. “She’s fine. She’s going to be okay. We just needed a little time to process things before we could tell everyone.” 

Becca finds his free hand and squeezes. It isn’t lost on him how much he needs the people in this room. How at this moment, he knows exactly where he fits. How he’s scared, but not alone. Where their energy often depletes his own, in this moment, his brothers and sister and grandparents and Steve are the ones keeping him upright. 

“Tell us what, Dad?” Cancer. It has to be cancer. His mom has been feeling off for days. Tired. Nauseous. 

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Your mom...well, there’s no easy way to say this.” His heart pitches down a cavern of sorrow. Oh god, this is it. “Your mom is pregnant.”

* * *

Steve

* * *

Becca breaks the awkwardly silent circle first to hug George. 

Steve himself finds himself at a loss of words. Another baby? Wow. It’s amazing. That means Robby’s baby will be older than his aunt or uncle. 

When he looks toward Bucky, he sees that the brunet is smiling but it’s not real. In fact, he doesn’t look so good. 

Steve’s pulse speeds up. Everything is forgotten but Bucky. He knows someone needs to intervene with him, and if no one else will do it, Steve won’t hesitate. 

He pulls Bucky back a few feet from the crowd. “Your color isn’t great. Maybe you should sit down. I can get a nurse or doctor to check you out.” Jesus, he’s acting like an Alpha with his own pregnant Omega. Those protective instincts are strong, screaming at him, demanding that he takes care of Bucky. 

The problem is that Bucky’s not even his. 

Slowly, Bucky shakes his head. “I’m just… a baby? I don’t even know how to react. I’m honestly just shocked.” 

“It’s not good news?” 

“No, no it is,” Bucky says, nodding. “It’s not what I was expecting, but it’s great. Greater than great. But… it’s just… there’s bound to be complications. Even with she was carrying me and Becks, she had problems. That was when she was twenty-six. She’s forty-eight now. I’m happy but…” his voice dies out as he shrugs. “The most important thing is that she’s healthy,” he says, hiccuping a breath. He runs his hands through his hair and Steve wants nothing more than to put his worries away. 

He takes Bucky’s face in his hands, cupping his cheeks gently. He’s searching. For what, he doesn’t know. He just wants to make sure Bucky is okay. He’s no doctor, but Bucky’s eyes are clear and shining with unshed tears and his face is regaining its color. And then he gives Steve a lopsided smile. 

Everything inside of him unravels when he looks into Bucky’s eyes. He knows he meant to comfort Bucky, to help him deal with the shock and fear, but his emotions are unspooling wildly. He’s lost all slack on the line to his heart and he’s losing fast. 

He’s not the type of man who loses. 

But it doesn’t bother him that he’s doing so now. 

Bucky doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t close his eyes as Steve brushes his lips softly over his in a hospital waiting room filled with Bucky’s family. He scrapes his teeth lightly over Bucky’s bottom lip, and Bucky closes his eyes, letting out a little hum of pleasure. He wants to tip Bucky’s head back, deepen the kiss,  _ touch _ , but he forces himself to stop. Here isn’t the place and now isn’t the time. 

He lets go of Bucky. Dazed, the brunet joins the rest of the mob around George. The rest of the information trickles in; Winnie will be staying in the hospital, and no, they haven’t done an ultrasound to see if she’ll be having another set of twins since it happens to run in Bucky’s family. No, they hadn’t been planning or trying for another baby, but yes, once the shock wore off they were both happy. Nervous but happy. 

George tells all of them to go home. He’ll bring Winnie home tomorrow after the ultrasound, but she had apparently given strict orders that her children and family were not to hang out in the hospital all night. 

The siblings scatter after George returns to his wife. Since their mother won’t know, Robby, Johnny, and Bucky all want to go to their own homes for the night and meet back at the parents’ in the morning. Without a single excuse that makes sense, Becca gets him to take Bucky home. Even though Bucky has his own car. It’s a clear set-up. 

When Bucky doesn’t fight it, Steve decides not to either. 

“Walk me up?” Bucky asks when Steve pulls in front of his building. 

And this is it, isn’t it? The inevitable he’s been trying to put off? “Is that what you want?” he asks. 

“I asked, didn’t I?” Bucky says back, smiling a soft, teasing smile that has Steve melting. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you from here to your apartment.” His heart thuds loudly in his ears as he follows Bucky up. They take the elevator this time and Steve stands off to one side while Bucky stands at the other, but they’re both facing each other, taking the other in. 

When they enter Bucky’s apartment, the sound of the door closing behind them is loud. Steve takes the time to lock the deadbolt, giving it a slight tug to check its effectiveness. It’s the grade-A stuff. 

Bucky unbuttons his coat before turning on a few lamps. The warm glow in the room catches all the different shades of brown in his hair. 

... _ inevitable _ . 

The word echoes in his head, mocking him. Encouraging him. 

Bucky throws his coat onto a chair and stretches his neck, craning that pale spanse of skin that Steve would like to spend hours nibbling and sucking. Biting. Claiming. 

... _ inevitable _ . 

Bucky rolls his aching shoulders back, lifting his chest. Steve’s eyes are drawn to the brunet’s flat stomach and he can easily envision it round in his mind’s eye. Round with a baby they could make. 

... _ inevitable _ . 

Who is he to fight it? If Bucky will have him, he is his. At least for tonight. 

But only for tonight. 

The weight lifts off him. He’s already fallen in love with Bucky. He can feel it, in his bones, in his heart. There is no way around that. 

He knows that Bucky is more careful with his own heart. Bucky doesn’t let himself get so caught up in the emotions of someone else, not with experience of doing so in the past. But that’s okay. That’s a good thing, really. Bucky  _ should  _ be more careful. That’s why Steve will leave town before Bucky can give his heart to him. They can have this night. Then Bucky can move on from the shadow he’s been hiding in. Bucky can finally find the guy that’s right for him. Smart like him. The guy who knows how to stay. 

“You can stay,” Bucky says, nearly echoing Steve’s thoughts. “If you want.” He fidgets with his sleeves, pulling them down like he prefers them, so only his fingertips poke out. 

“I do.” He shrugs off his own coat, watching Bucky watching him. The brunet doesn’t seem frightened, but Steve wants him to be sure. Sure that Bucky is ready. Sure that Bucky understands what Steve can and can’t give him. 

He moves slowly, dropping his jacket on the same chair Bucky put his. Bucky reaches for him first. An innocent caress from Steve’s temple to his cheek that damns him forever to a longing he knows time will not erase. Bucky will move on, but Steve has a feeling he himself never will. 

Bucky takes off his sweater and unbuttons his shirt with trembling fingers, eyeing Steve warily. As if daring him to react. Bucky presses his lips together, tension tightening his features, going someplace else mentally. And just as Bucky is about to remove the shirt from his body, Steve tells him to stop. He wants all of Bucky’s attention to stay right here. In this room. 

“Just wait,” he says as he moves behind Bucky and wraps his arms around him, pulling Bucky all the way to Steve’s chest and resting his chin on the smaller man’s shoulder. Holding him, just holding him. He commits the moment to memory. The way Bucky melts into him. The fresh linen smell of Bucky. Even the way Steve hurts wanting the Omega so much. 

He bends his head down to press a kiss against Bucky’s cheek. Bucky squirms against him, shuddering with pleasure. Feeding Steve’s own. 

It’s Steve’s own hands that remove Bucky’s shirt as he comes alive under Steve’s caresses. All the things Bucky’s been hiding so deeply inside of himself start to rise to the surface. All of his feelings for Steve. 

He nips and licks a trail up and down Bucky’s spine. It dawns on him just how much responsibility he has tonight. All the ways he can screw it up. 

A hot ball of panic rises in his throat, but he swallows it down, fire and all. What Bucky needs is a man. A confident lover to erase the touch of his last. Steve can be that man-- he will be that man-- or he’ll die trying.

He spins Bucky around and walks them to the wall. Bucky’s gonna need the wall. He intends to turn every muscle Bucky has into jelly. 

Bucky arches and cries out, first maybe in shock, but then in a desperate, high keening sound that Steve will hear long after this night is gone. Bucky’s nimble fingers grasp Steve’s shirt like a lifeline as he works his way down Steve’s neck. Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s stomach. Sucking. Biting. Kissing and sucking some more. Desire claws at him like a feral beast. 

“Steve…” Bucky whispers, making Steve pause. “I want to feel you. Your skin.” 

Done. He needs it too. To have nothing separating them. Flesh to flesh. 

He takes his hands off of Bucky long enough to reach back and pull his flannel and undershirt over his head. Bucky wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly to his body, his heart drumming against Steve’s. 

He’s lost to Bucky now. He’s never known anything like this feeling. 

His hands skim Bucky’s waist, a delicate, fragile thing, just as his mouth takes Bucky’s. Instinctively, Bucky starts to move against him. 

Nothing in his life has prepared Steve for this. For the feelings coursing through him like blood. He wants to protect Bucky, and at the same time, devour him. There is nothing safe about love. Not for him. Not for Bucky. He knows that now. 

He’s also never embraced his Alpha instincts like this. Never let the genes that make him different rule him. 

Bucky’s pants and underwear get pushed down, and Steve follows them, dotting Bucky’s soft body with kisses as he goes. He licks at the dip of Bucky’s naval, sucks against Bucky’s hip, the top of Bucky’s thighs. Bucky’s fingers lock into Steve’s hair, guiding him, holding him in place. 

When Steve noses into Bucky’s groin, inhaling him, Bucky tenses. One lick against the head of Bucky’s pretty cock and all of Steve’s senses ignite. “Oh, baby,” he nearly growls, “You taste so fucking good.” 

Bucky’s breath shudders out and fans sweetly against Steve’s skin. There’s nowhere Steve would rather be than here, right here. On his knees in front of this perfect, beautiful man. Bucky’s essence coating his tongue. His thin legs are trembling and Steve can feel how his delicate muscles quiver against Steve’s own thicker skin. 

“Am I the first person to ever suck your cock?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. Bucky nods, a pretty red blush painting over his face, neck, and chest. “I like that,” Steve continues on. “Love it. Knowing I’m the first one to taste you here. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. The things I’m going to do to you… you’ll be begging for me.” 

Bucky whines when Steve starts to finger his taint, then moving to an Omega’s most sacred area. God, Bucky’s slippery already, his slick making him ready for Steve. The deep rumble escapes his throat without his permission, but it has Bucky moaning, squirming in Steve’s hold. 

“Baby, I wanna make you feel so good. Can I do that for you?” When he looks up at Bucky’s face, he almost spills right then seeing how raptured Bucky is. His eyes have gone hazy now, his lips raw and red, his mouth parted as he struggles to breath. God, he’s a vision. 

Bucky’s chest shudders as he tries to inhale, a whimper leaving his mouth instead. “Y-yes, please. Steve, please.” 

He pulls Bucky to the floor with him and gets the brunet on all fours. He gives a silent prayer to anyone above that he’ll last because with Bucky presenting to him, pleading for Steve, And then, he’s diving in. 

He rims Bucky’s sweet hole with his tongue. Instantly, Bucky starts moaning again and shifts his hips enough that he starts grinding back against Steve. He’s in fucking heaven. His balls are full and aching. He wants to come already, inside Bucky. Inside Bucky’s mouth. Inside his ass. He wants it all. He wants to see his seed dripping out of Bucky. 

He feels like some kind of animal with how his thoughts set only on Bucky, the insatiable need to claim the man he’s latched to. 

When he starts to work into Bucky, he almost blacks out with how tight the Omega is. The muscles of Bucky’s hole clench around Steve’s finger. He’s never experienced someone this tight. 

It dawns on him then. 

He should have known all along but somehow, he doesn’t realize it until he’s knuckle deep in Bucky’s ass. 

Bucky’s a virgin. 

He doesn’t even notice he’s stopped working Bucky open until Bucky is shifting to look at him. He must see the look on Steve’s face because he’s shaking his head, “Don’t, Steve. Please don’t stop. I know what I want and I want this, okay? I asked you for this. Give it to me, please.  _ Please _ .” 

Who is he to tell Bucky no? Bucky wants this. He wants this. So why stop? They can give each other what their bodies both crave, what they both need. 

The weight of responsibility hits him again. They’ll go slow. He’ll take his time opening up Bucky, starting off small. It’ll hurt for Bucky no matter what but they can take care to take the majority of it away. 

Being careful is an understatement in how he worships Bucky. He takes a long period of time working Bucky’s hole open, starting with one finger then adding more at Bucky’s nods until he has four fingers wrapped around Bucky’s heat. 

The smell alone has his eyes struggling to stay open with how they threaten to roll into the back of his skull. He’s never been with an Omega, never even touched one. He’s already trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to manage to pull out in time before his knot locks into place. God. He’s never knotted anyone before. 

He’s dying for it right now. 

When Bucky’s a panting mess and begging for Steve, he gathers the small brunet in his arms and carries him into the bedroom. He deposits Bucky gently in the middle of the bed and Bucky sits up, leaning back on his elbows as he watches Steve take off his pants. There’s hunger in his breathtaking eyes. 

“I want to touch all of you,” Bucky whispers. 

His words, his voice, push Steve’s need for the brunet to the breaking point. He’s eager to strip and get back to touching Bucky, exploring and memorizing every inch of him. 

When they’re pressed together, Bucky touches him with wonder. Laughs at Steve’s harsh hiss of pleasure. He knows he won’t last, not like this. Not with Bucky’s caresses and the way Bucky scrapes his short nails along Steve’s skin when he takes Steve into his mouth. 

He threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair and pulls him back up, kissing that beautiful mouth until Bucky’s breathless. Until Bucky falls back on the bed with Steve above him. 

“Are you protected?” he asks, watching Bucky’s face carefully. “Have you taken the shot?” He can’t wear a condom due to the knot and he’s never needed one since the Alpha gene prevents him from giving or receiving STIs. He can only knot and impregnate an Omega, and before Bucky, there’s never been an Omega Steve’s allowed himself to pursue. No matter what, he’s going to have to pull out before the knot forms, no matter how badly he wants to know what it’s like. Even if Bucky’s on the birth control shots, accidents happen. 

Still, the desire lingers. What would it be like to come inside Bucky, knowing his seed could put a baby in him?  _ Fuck _ . Why does just thinking about Bucky being knocked up with his baby make him want to breed the man in his arms so badly? He’s too old to start a family now. And… Bucky  _ deserves better.  _

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I get the shot regularly.” 

Steve forces his breeding urges to the side and gets back to sliding between Bucky’s wide open legs, touching and kissing every inch of skin that he can get to until Bucky is quivering and thinking only about him. 

As much as he wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of the night, Bucky is squirming and begging for Steve to enter him. He knows that’s how it has to be with them this time. And since there might not be a next time, Steve wants to do this right. 

“How do you want me, mistletoe?” he asks, finding Bucky’s eyes. 

“I want to see you.” 

“Good choice,” he says, smiling. He was hoping Bucky would say that. He wants to see Bucky’s face too. 

He lines himself up between Bucky’s legs. Bucky’s so fucking wet already that they won’t need any lube. His natural slick is sweet and hot and welcoming and Steve gathers a bit along his fingers to coat his dick. He catches Bucky’s gaze one more time and when Bucky nods, giving his permission, Steve notches his dick at Bucky’s hole and eases in so,  _ so  _ slowly. 

He knows he’s not a small man. Alphas always have big cocks so they can plug up Omegas and breed them properly, but it still makes him wince when he realizes his girth is going to practically split Bucky into two. 

Bucky’s breath catches but his hands grip onto Steve’s shoulders and his legs wrap around Steve’s waist, and he pulls Steve in inch by inch. He lets Bucky hold the power and they only have to stop a few times as Bucky’s body gets adjusted to the intrusion. 

Bucky’s body yields sweetly to him. Steve’s heart does the same for him. He’s never loved anyone apart from his ma. He hasn’t used his heart in a long time, and for a while, he’d thought it stopped working. But  _ now _ ? Now he loves. 

The brunet cries out Steve’s name as soon as Steve gets all the way in and his balls are touching against Bucky’s ass.  _ Damn _ . Nothing has ever felt so good as Bucky tightening around his cock and scraping his nails down Steve’s back. “Are-- are you okay?” he gruffs out, his voice choked to hell. 

“I’m better than okay,” Bucky says, his eyes wide as if in disbelief. “Holy-- you’re inside me.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m so deep in you right now.” Fuck, he needs to stop talking or he’ll make himself come too fast. 

Bucky plants his feet and arches to make Steve go deeper and it’s when Bucky urges him to move, that he finally lets himself let go. Lets the primal beat overtake him. Lets his heart open fully. Lets the world collapse and obliterate all that was old and unwanted. He shakes with the need to tell Bucky, to make Bucky understand. 

But, contrary to popular belief, Steve’s not that brave. 

So he starts moving slowly, building up a pace until he’s rutting into Bucky like a mindless animal, hoping somehow Bucky will hear what Steve’s heart is saying every time his cock hits home. 

Now that he knows what he’s been missing, how will he ever let Bucky go after tonight? And tonight is all they have. 

He grits his teeth and pauses, holding very still, trying to control his cock. He doesn’t want to pull out yet, but he can feel the tingle. It’s already started. “Bucky-- baby, I need to pull out.” 

“No,” Bucky protests, pulling Steve tighter against his body. “Not yet.” 

“Baby, I don’t want to, but it’s too dangerous. Don’t worry, I can still make it good. You’ll see.” 

“But I’m on the shot.” 

“It’s too dangerous.” 

Bucky’s legs are strong and he uses them to anchor Steve deeper inside of him. He could break the hold if he wanted to, but he doesn’t dare. “Don’t take this away from us,” Bucky says, his eyes sharp. Steve’s good sense left the building long ago and he has a willing Omega under him begging him with his eyes to give him what he needs. What they both need. Bucky frames Steve’s face in his soft, gentle hands and forces Steve to lock their gazes together. “I’m a man. I know what I want and what I can handle. You don’t get to divide for me.” 

Steve loves that Bucky’s already more assertive. The Omega certainly isn’t hiding anymore. 

Steve’s whole body clenches trying to keep from knotting too soon. “Are. You. Sure?” he grits out.

Bucky nods eagerly. “I need it. Knot me, Steve. Please,  _ Alpha _ .” 

His words are like a trigger. The sensation warms near the base of Steve’s cock, and his muscles are taut, coiled, and ready. He can feel his lengthening cock pushing deeper than he’s ever been before inside someone while the increasing girth of his knot stretches Bucky around him more. Everything feels so intense, his movements get faster, more charged, and the need to breed becomes more desperate. 

Bucky lets out a slightly pained groan as he begins to fuck Bucky with purpose. "That's it, Alpha. Fuck me. Baby, fuck me--" 

Instinct takes over, his cock getting harder as Steve’s hips drive into the omega below him. The base of his dick swells even more. Steve takes Bucky’s dick in his hand, stroking. “Do you feel it, baby? Do you feel that knot for you? All for you.” 

Steve’s cock and knot surge, locking him inside Bucky’s ass. He’s trapped now, his hips moving with short, rapid strokes, priming the pump. At the same time, Bucky keens as the sudden pressure of Steve’s cock against his prostate kicks him into overdrive too. 

It doesn’t take a few more seconds until Bucky spills into Steve’s hand as his eyes roll back in his head. When Steve comes, it’s like a beast has taken over his body. The way he roars. The way his cock jerks over and over again. The way his hands grab Bucky’s hair and pull him into his kiss. He doesn’t think it’s ever going to stop. 

After the initial large, forceful shots of come, the feeling subsides into a steady, heavy flow. As the initial wave passes, he rolls them onto their sides to ride out the rest. The new position causes his dick to pulse rhythmically, his love spooned against his chest. The bliss is unimaginable. 

And then his thoughts turn to reality. To how bad it’s going to suck saying goodbye. To knowing he’ll never feel like this again. 

They doze off together, curled together and covered in cum, but the knot will keep them like this for a while. When he wake ups, it’s clear that he should get the fuck out of this town before he screws up Bucky’s life any more. This feels too good. He can’t allow either of them to get used to it. 

“Steve?” Bucky breaks the silence. 

“Yeah, Buck.” 

“You’re leaving me tomorrow, aren’t you?” 

How did Bucky know what he was thinking? 

“Yeah. I think it’s best. I don’t... I’m not staying here. It would be wrong for me to lead you on.” 

Bucky bristles and pulls out of his embrace. “I’m a big boy, Steve. I know I’ve had some issues, but I’m not naive. I don’t need to be protected.” 

“I’m not trying to be an asshole. The longer we hang on, the more it will hurt. But I don’t want you comparing me to—” 

“ _ Don’t _ .” Bucky sits up. “Don’t bring them in here and ruin this for us. I always knew you would leave. You never told me you would stay. And I wouldn’t have had sex with you if I thought you were.” 

Well, now Steve knows exactly what an icepick to the heart feels like. “You wouldn’t have had sex with me if I was staying?” 

“No. You helped me because you were just what I needed. A temporary lover. Someone who cared about me and respected me, but someone who isn’t part of my life. So don’t patronize me with your fears of leading me on. I didn’t let you make love to me to get me over my fears. I chose you.” 

God, he loves him. All that fire Bucky’s been hiding deep inside. 

Steve sits up too. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this. I didn’t mean to sound patronizing.” 

“You should stay through Christmas.” 

Every day he stays will make it that much harder to leave. “I need to go find out who I am when I’m not Cap.” 

Bucky nods. “But you’ll stay tonight.” 

“You sure you want me to? I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you. That all I wanted was—” 

“I thought we just established that I was using you for sex,” Bucky says, not looking at him. “Let’s get under the covers, though, because I’m freezing.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a magical Christmas!

Bucky

* * *

Steve is gone when he wakes up. He knew, as he fell asleep, that Steve would go. Just as he knew there was nothing he could do to make the man stay.

His chest aches unpleasantly, but he knows Steve gave him so much more than he took. Steve is scared, Bucky understands that. The man took a lot on in this past week. Going from a loner to the thick of a large family Christmas. The drama of Bucky's parents. The drama of Bucky's own trauma and insecurities. It was enough to overload anyone, and Steve also has his own big changes to think about. 

He understands that. Truly, he does.

But a note would have been nice. 

He wants to be pragmatic about it. Many people have one-night stands or short-term relationships. Not everyone has to be in love or in a committed relationship to have sex. Good sex.  _ Fantastic _ sex. But it's just… he's not pragmatic. And his heart was already in the game. 

And while he wouldn’t trade this last week with Steve for anything in the world, Bucky still wishes he would have stayed. Had  _ wanted _ to stay. Even though he told Steve differently. 

Maybe if he would have just told Steve… but no, it was too late for that. Steve was probably in another state by now.

He knocks on Nat's door way too early, but he can’t wait any longer. Nat answers, bleary eyed but holding a cup of coffee so at least he didn’t wake her. 

“What’s up? Merry—” Then she really looks. “What’s wrong? Is it your mom? Come in, come in.” 

She pushes him gently onto the couch, covers him in a blanket, and walks across the room to the kitchen to pour more coffee. She comes back with the mug half full and a bottle of whipped cream, with which she liberally tops off both of their mugs. 

Sitting cross-legged on the couch next to him, Nat listens to his whole story. Showing surprise only when he gets to the part about dressing up and down in front of Steve. “Why would you do that?” she asks, skepticism clear in her tone. 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It just felt like the right thing to do. It's like… why do people get on airplanes to get over their fear of flying? I needed to see how he would react. How I would react. It was only scary until I did it.” 

“And you guys had sex and it was great and then he ran away?” 

He nods, biting into his lip and staying off into the distance. “But here’s the crazy part. I think he’ll be back.” 

There. 

He said it out loud. 

He doesn’t want a temporary lover like he droned about last night. He wants Steve. He wants a  _ real  _ relationship. And his heart, the wretched thing, is convinced deep down inside, Steve wants that with him too. 

Nat frowns. Contemplates her empty cup. Frowns some more. “Some guys just aren’t the sticking kind, James. I mean, I hope you’re right, but maybe you should prepare yourself for that not working out the way you hope.” No longer satisfied with an empty mug, she gets up, grabs his cup, and brings them both to the kitchen for a refill. “You know that saying about how people come into your life for a reason or a season? Or something? Maybe his entire purpose was to deflower you and get you back on the horse.” 

“Nat!” 

“What?” She hands him the coffee. “Honey, it was time.” 

Well, okay. She isn’t wrong. 

“Besides,” Nat goes on. “You could not have picked a better guy. He’s older and has more experience than you. He’s way hot. And he’s a nice guy. Even if he isn’t the sticking around kind— he’s a nice guy. He’s a war hero. Overall, he was perfect for wetting your whistle.” 

He gives her a flat look that borderlines on disgusted. “Seriously, Nat?” But he takes a deep breath, taking her words in. “But thank you. I feel better. You’ll be at dinner tonight, right?” 

“Of course. You said your mom is okay, but are you sure she’s up for the big dinner?” 

“Yeah, about that.” He hasn't even had a chance to really process everything yet. “You know how my mom told us the other day she was going through early menopause and we kind of changed the subject because she tends to overshare when she starts talking about medical stuff?” 

“Yeah.” 

“The very esteemed Dr. Barnes completely misdiagnosed herself. She is not going through the change— well, not that one. And she does not have a touch of the flu. She’s pregnant.” 

Nat blinks like she doesn’t believe him, but then the seconds tick by and expression finally shows on her face. “Oh my God. Your mom is going to have another baby?” 

He nods. It feels so weird to say it. He’s always been the baby… the Omega baby, to make matters worse. Plus, he’s twenty-two years old. His parents having another baby this late in his life will certainly be… odd. Exciting, sure, but strange too. 

“Your mom is going to have a baby before we do,” Nat comments with a smile.

“Nat, we don’t even have boyfriends. I think we’re doomed.” 

Nat sits back, sighing. “Frankly, I think your mom is doomed. I’m pretty sure having a baby at fifty is a lot harder than having one in your twenties.” 

Again, he nods. That was one of his biggest worries when the news broke. Fifty and pregnant isn’t exactly the norm. His age on the other hand… he’s in his goddamn prime. He can picture it so easily. Him in place of his mom. Nestled in a hospital bed with a newborn baby in his arms. Brown hair like his, bright blue eyes like-- “Do you want babies?” he asks her. 

Nat takes a little too long to answer. She’s an Alpha, like Steve, but she’s never found herself an Omega. “Yeah, I think so. You?” 

“A week ago, I didn’t think I would say yes. I didn’t think I ever wanted to let anyone close enough to get in my head, you know? But now… now I can see it. I want them. Someday. Soon, maybe.” 

Steve gave him that at least-- the hope of someday.

***

Christmas Eve dinner without their mom at the helm is different, but they all work together, taking turns keeping her in the recliner whenever she tries to help. 

Becca doesn’t say a single word about Steve all day. He hopes that he didn’t make her friendship weird with Steve. Steve doesn’t have a lot of friends and he doesn’t want Steve to lose Becca. 

But it’s strange because not a single person says anything at all about Steve. It was as if the man was never even there. 

But Steve was. 

He aches for him, wishing he knew where Steve was. Then he gets mad at himself about it. He didn’t figure Steve was the kind to leave without saying goodbye. Not after everything they shared. Which is why he gets sadder as the evening goes on. He’d been so sure Steve would come back. 

He does his best not to pout and sulk as he pulls out the pudding for the carolers but he can’t shake the idea of how much better everything would be if Steve was there right beside him. What would he even say to Steve if he was? It’s definitely too soon to tell the man that he’s head over heels in love with him. Probably still too soon to tell Steve to stay. And now it’s too late for anything at all. 

Eventually, his dad’s head pops into the kitchen. “Ah, sweetheart? There’s someone here to see you. We tried to send him away, but he insists he just wants to apologize, so…” 

Before he can stop himself or listen to his dad objecting, he’s pushing past the kitchen doorway and rushing into the entranceway. He  _ knew  _ it. Knew Steve couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Maybe Steve couldn’t leave at all. If Steve wants to-- He stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the doorway. 

“Brock?” 

Robby and Johnny and even Becca have formed a barricade in the doorway, and their eyes are all on him as if waiting for his move. He can’t look away. Surrounded by his family, Brock looks several inches shorter than he remembers Brock actually being. And also not as drop-dead gorgeous as Brock seemed once upon a time. Now he seems older, not as refined. Brock’s slacks are immaculate as always, but his sweater is a shade of green that Bucky swore he’s seen before, and now it only makes him see red. 

Brock holds his hands out in front of him, looking right at Bucky as if he’s pleading. “Can we talk?” 

Nat materializes right beside him, throwing her arm around his shoulders. “Tell us the word and we’ll send him away. It’s your call, James.” 

He has yet to look away from Brock. He never envisioned seeing the guy again, but now that they’re here, practically face to face, he can’t look anywhere else  _ but  _ at Brock. Daring Brock to say something, do something. He can feel it in his bones that he’s ready to be angry now. 

But… the question is why. Why is Brock here? Of all days. Of all times. Brock chooses now to approach him? Brock’s usual sneer is missing. He wouldn’t have come here just to insult him. Something else is going on. 

He didn’t think his family knew how to be this quiet as the only sound in the room comes from the grandfather clock in the corner, counting down the seconds. 

He knows he could easily send Brock away. Could have one of his brothers, or Becca, or even Nat force him back into the car and make him drive away, locking the gate behind him. There’s no denying what Brock had tried to do to him but he’s been doing so good getting over the past. He’s been gaining his confidence and now he can feel it threatening to all slip away. But he  _ refuses  _ to let himself stumble back to where he started at the beginning of the week, before Steve helped him so much. He will not dare be scared of Brock for a second longer. 

When he gives his permission and asks for Brock to join him in the kitchen, everyone looks at him like he’s gone bat-shit crazy. Becca is the first to grab a hold of him, forcing him to look at her. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she tells him. 

Even more crazily, he simply shrugs. “It’s Christmas,” he says, like that somehow makes it all make sense. He’s just so done with this. With everything, really. 

His dad stops him halfway, allowing Brock to go in ahead of him. “I’d feel better if you brought someone in there with you.” 

Bucky hugs him. He squeezes his eyes tight at the feeling of his dad’s hold on him. “I’m fine, Dad. Everyone will be right outside the door. It can’t get more perfect than that. I won’t let him anywhere near me, believe me, and if I need help, I’ll shout, I swear.” 

His dad still seems hesitant, but with a heavy sigh, he let’s Bucky go. “As soon as you get uncomfortable, promise me you’ll call for someone. Promise me, son.” 

He nods. “I promise.” 

Once in the kitchen, he forces himself to keep his eyes on Brock’s face and not on his shoes. He’s done with looking at his shoes. 

Brock puts on that megawhite smile that Bucky always associated with car salesmen. It’s polite, not entirely real, but there’s no denying how genuine Brock’s eyes are. He’s never seen that look on Brock’s face before. Guilt. Sorrow. Shame. 

_ Good _ . 

“Thanks for letting me in,” Brock says eventually. 

He doesn’t smile back. “Why are you here?” 

This time, it’s Brock that looks down at his feet. “I know I have no right to be here but… I needed to see you and… talk. To apologize. I know it’s little too late, but I needed to tell you that I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” The look on Brock’s face is worth letting him in the house. Did Brock really think this was going to be easy? After everything he’s gone through? 

“For that night,” Brock whispers. There’s something in his tone, something that sounds broken, that has Bucky turning away and going back to his pudding. “There hasn’t been a day that’s passed that I haven’t… I got help, Bucky. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since that night and I blocked Jack out completely. My parents split because of me. My mom wouldn’t even look at me for months until I asked her to check me into a rehab center right after I got out. My dad-- I can’t go anywhere near my dad because when I do, all he starts talking about is how you ruined my life-- when in reality, I was the one who fucked up. Me. Not you.” 

He loved this guy once. That’s what hurts the most. Brock stands in front of him now and he remembers what it was like to be in love with him. And he remembers what it was like to be betrayed by him. 

He slams the wooden spoon down, crossing his arms over his chest. Does Brock think they’re going to kiss and make up? “Why are you here? Why now?” 

Brock takes a shaky breath. “My dad told me he ran into you downtown. Told me about what happened. We got into a big fight that night after I went off and told him to stop blaming you. That if he had any reason to be mad, it was to be mad at me. It… didn’t go good. I’ve been staying with my mom since.” 

At his silence, Brock takes another deep breath. “Look. I came here only to apologize but I understand if I don’t have your forgiveness. I can’t and won’t ever blame you if you don’t. But I also needed to apologize to you for myself, too. I’ve been angry at myself for so long, Bucky. And I just-- I can’t hold onto that energy anymore. I need to forgive myself, and the first step with that is apologizing to you first.” 

He looks up at that and moves to plop onto a stool, still a good distance from Brock who hasn’t moved an inch past the fridge across the room. At first it starts to aggravate him that Brock is making sense, but then he realizes that that’s what he’s been doing too.  _ Healing _ . 

“I’m  _ so  _ sorry, Bucky. I can’t imagine what I’ve put you through-- your family, too-- but I promise you will never see me again if you tell me to fuck off. I came to apologize and that’s it. I’m not expecting anything from you in return. You’ve given me more than enough just letting me in here.” 

He doesn’t want to, but deep, deep down, he knows Brock is telling the truth and that he is sorry. Brock was an idiotic teenager when he did what he did. He won’t go as far and say he forgives Brock, not so easily and definitely not so quickly, but Brock is only human. All humans make mistakes. 

Brock’s fingers trace the pattern in the granite counter tops. “I know we won’t ever be friends again. And I know I’m always going to carry guilt whenever it comes to you, no matter what. I came here to tell you I’m sorry and I can only hope that that offers you some kind of comfort. If you ever need to talk to me, you know where to find me. I promise I won’t ever turn you away, Buck.” Brock straightens up and gives him a dip of his chin that carries more words than either of them have ever shared. “With that, I’m wishing you and your family a Merry Christmas.”

Bucky nods silently. Something inside of him feels so loose, like whatever chain was holding him back has finally snapped and he’s been set free. He wishes he could tell Steve. “Merry Christmas,” he returns. 

They won’t ever be friends again, that much is true. But letting go of the hurt will be enough. 

Movement outside the side doors catches his eye. The carolers have arrived. He crosses the room to open the doors. 

_ “Silent night…” _ they begin singing. 

“What the fuck is going on in here?” 

Startled, him and Brock turn to the doorway and a very upset Santa Claus is standing there. 

_ “Holy night…”  _

Wait. Santa? 

“Santa?” Brock echoes his thoughts. 

* * *

Steve

* * *

Seriously, what the fuck? 

_ “All is calm…”  _

He fights every urge to rush into the room and beat the ever loving shit out of Brock Rumlow. The guy is lucky that every pound of padding in this ridiculous red suit slows his progress across the kitchen, as well as Nat pulling on his arm from behind him. 

_ “All is bright…”  _

“Relax, Steve. This is our fault. We should have given you a little more details other than Brock’s in the kitchen with Bucky all alone,” Nat hisses, yanking on him. 

_ “... tender and mild…”  _

His eyes meet Bucky’s across the room. Bucky’s very surprised eyes. “Steve?” 

He stops fighting Nat and stands in place, letting the Santa bag drop at his feet just as the rest of the family filters in to listen to the carolers. 

“ _ Steve _ ?” Bucky repeats. “What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like Santa?” 

He can explain all of that later. “What am  _ I  _ doing here?” he echoes in disbelief. “What is  _ he  _ doing here?” 

Rumlow moves and he reaches out to place his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to get his attention, but all Steve can see is red and he just explodes. In three large strides he crosses the room and punches the guy square in the nose, the sound just as satisfying as he imagined it would be. 

_ “Sleep in heavenly peace…”  _

Rumlow goes down to the floor with one blow. 

A tray of pudding cups clatters to the floor. Bucky yells and kneels beside Brock. Nat starts laughing. And the room fills with family and shouting. 

“Someone get a towel! If he bleeds on Mom’s floor, she’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Brock, are you okay?” 

“This is the best Christmas ever!” 

_ “We wish you a Merry Christmas…”  _

From behind him, the sheriff uncle curses lowly. “Sorry, man, but I’m gonna have to take you,” he says to Steve as the handcuffs click into place. 

_ “And a Happy Near Year…”  _

But it’s Bucky on the floor holding a towel tenderly to Rumlow’s face that sears him. The disappointment in Bucky’s eyes when he looks up is what guts Steve as the Sheriff redirects them into the next room. 

He shouldn’t have come back. He doesn’t know how to do this. How to be part of a normal Christmas. A family. 

Jail, he can do. 

***

Except, jail isn’t where he ends up. There’s an old workshed in the back of the Barnes’ property that the Sheriff takes him to. Sheriff Logan had popped the door open, ushered him inside, and closed the door after telling him to cool down. 

An hour later, he’s staring blankly at the cement floor beneath him. There’s absolutely nothing inside the shed apart from a long bench and a row of counters and cabinets. He has no doubt that at any moment now the Sheriff will come back in and whisk him away to real jail. 

His life is officially a disaster. 

He has pudding on his shoe, his fake beard itches his real beard, and Jingle Bells, the last song that he heard the carolers singing, is stuck in his head. 

He scrubs his hands over his beard, unable to work up the energy to take off the damn suit. He wonders if the Sheriff will read him his rights soon or if he’ll be given his phone call when he gets to the actual station. This is probably what they do in small towns. It’s not like he’s ever been arrested before, so what does he know? He has no one to call anyways. 

It seems pretty stupid now, thinking he could just show up and ho-ho-ho his way back into Bucky’s good graces. He’s lucky nobody punched him back. 

The door opens up and Bucky walks right in, making Steve straighten up on the bench. “Well, Santa, you certainly know how to liven up a party.” Bucky’s voice, unexpected as it may be, makes him stand up. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Bucky’s bundled up in a winter jacket, hat, and scarf. Snow crystals cling to his clothes. He’d love to have been on the outside to see Bucky in the snow. He’s the sweet and innocent type to probably catch snowflakes on his tongue. 

Bucky raises a questioning eyebrow. “What am I doing in my family’s old shed?” He shrugs, walking into the building and closing the door behind him. “It’s not like the door’s locked or anything so I just walked right in. Besides, what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

The worst part about being arrested had nothing to do with being put in jail, or this pseudo-jail for the time being. No, the worst part was having to imagine what that Rumlow asshold had said to Bucky before he’d gotten there. Before he made Rumlow shut up. 

Bucky unwraps his scarf. “I’m fine. Brock’s fine too, in case you’re wondering.” 

“I’m not. Why was he there?” Why did Bucky’s family, so protective of him, allow Rumlow to be so close?

Bucky pulls off his hat and stuffs it into the pocket of his coat. Like he’s staying here for a while. It’s a good thing this shed has good insulation, or else they’d both be freezing. 

He has no idea what possessed Bucky’s uncle to even let him in here. Pseudo-jail is no place for Bucky. 

“Brock was here to apologize to me. Why were you here?” 

Apologize? Huh. Christmas miracles must come true. 

“So I hit him while he was making amends?” he asks. Maybe that hadn’t been his best move. 

Bucky nods. “He was being nice. Surprisingly.” His crooked smile nearly breaks Steve. “Why were you there, Steve?” 

He slumps back onto the bench, forgetting the Santa padding and almost tipping over. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Bucky crosses the room slowly. “I think it does.” While his mind tries to catch up, Bucky sits himself on his lap. “I hope it’s not too late to tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa.” 

His mind is fuzzy, but his hands know what to do, instantly holding Bucky so he won’t get away. He looks at the door. “What about--?” 

“You aren’t actually arrested, you know that right? We don’t use this shed anymore and it was actually my Uncle who suggested it be a cool down zone. We’ve all been in here sooner or later. It just so happened that it was your time,” Bucky jokes. 

He doesn’t understand. Bucky should hate him. The whole family should hate him. He left Bucky and when he got smart enough to come back, he started a fight at Christmas. With a guy who was trying to apologize-- an apology Bucky really needed to hear. 

“Now, are you ready to listen to my wish list, Santa?” 

Slowly, a soft smile drifted across his face. “Yeah, what do you want for Christmas?” He’ll give it to Bucky. Whatever it is. 

“I want to know why you came back tonight.” 

“That’s all?” 

“No, but that’s a good place to start.” 

He doesn’t deserve Bucky’s trust, but apparently, he has it. He doesn’t deserve Bucky’s love, but he’s going to go after that, too. 

He takes Bucky’s hand in his. “I came back tonight, dressed like this, to steal your heart, Buck.” Bucky lays his head down on Steve’s shoulder. “I came here tonight to give it to you.” Bucky feels so right. Everything in his life suddenly feels so right. Can it really be this easy? “I’m not good enough for you, but I’m selfish enough to not care.” 

Bucky lifts his head up. “Why do you say that? That you’re not good enough?”

“I just got arrested in your mother’s kitchen.” 

“You aren’t really under arrest.” 

There is a special place in hell for having a hard-on in a Santa suit. He’s sure of it. “I’m too old for you.” 

“I think you’ll do just fine keeping up with me, gramps.” 

He’s so ready to whisk Bucky away, but he needs to know Bucky isn’t going to change his mind. It would hurt now. It’ll kill him later. He doesn’t want to tie Bucky down. Make him think his world is confined. Getting that apology from Rumlow might have freed Bucky up to try more wilder and crazier things. 

“Seriously, mistletoe. You’re young. You’ve still got some exploring to do. Some more things to try that are unexpected.” 

“So do them with me,” Bucky says, like it’s that easy. That simple. 

Maybe it is? 

He thinks of Bucky’s parents-- his whole family. How they take care of each other, work as a unit. Bucky will expect that from him. “What if I don’t know how-- what if I don’t know how to love you right?” 

“Yes, you do. You so do.” Bucky reaches down and grabs Steve’s hand, placing it on his chest. “You give love just fine. You just don’t know how to accept it. But I can give you that.” 

He swallows past the lump in his throat that threatens the first tears in seventeen years. Bucky could give him that. He just has to let Bucky. 

“I knew you’d come back, you know.” 

“Oh really?” he raises a brow. “I didn’t even know. How did you figure it out?” 

How can Bucky trust him so much when Steve doesn’t even trust himself? 

Bucky smiles. “I just knew. I even told Nat this morning.” 

He starts to press his hands into Bucky’s thighs, squeezing, pulling, all because he can. Because he’s beginning to understand that this isn’t a dream. Bucky is here, flesh and blood and in his arms. And Bucky wants him. Bucky wants to give him his heart. 

“So, what was all that business about wanting me to be a temporary lover? That you wouldn’t have slept with me if I was staying?” He dips his head down and buries it into the vulnerable curve of Bucky’s neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent. “You had me fooled.” 

“I changed my mind.” 

Steve sits up again, finding Bucky’s gaze. “You changed your mind?” 

Bucky shrugs, shaking his head. “No, not really. I may have lied to you a bit. I knew what I wanted with you from the very beginning. I want you to stay. I want to see where this goes. I just want you for Christmas. Maybe every Christmas.” 

Every Christmas. Every Christmas sounds fucking amazing to him. 

He cups Bucky’s cheek in his hands. “I can give you that.” And then he pulls out the piece of mistletoe he put in his pocket so many hours ago, holding it above their heads, and kisses Bucky to fill in the rest of the words that he’s not sure he knows how to say. Yet. He figures he has plenty of time. 

He has every Christmas, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue is up next :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally supposed to be up a few days ago but I got a bit busy with holiday stuff. 
> 
> It's up now and with it, comes the closing of this story. I hope you guys have enjoyed it and if you did, you should totally check out my other A/B/O stucky fic titled Ninety-Nine Problems.

Bucky

_ Two years later _

* * *

At first he thought it would be super weird to have a baby shower with his best friend's mate, but it’s grown on him, surprisingly. They’re both pregnant and since they’re male Omega’s, they’re both high risk pregnancies. While he had certainly been thrown for a loop with Nat introduced him to Clint, now the two of them just make sense. He’s the ying to her yang or however the saying goes when two people are destined to be together. 

Like him and Steve-- Steve who had put a ring on him a year and a half ago, and bought him the most gorgeous house a few weeks later, and finally came to the agreement that it was time for babies and knocked Bucky right the fuck up. God, it’s been a glorious two years since Steve stopped acting a fool and chose to stay. 

And now, he’s pregnant and the size of the goddamn moon but he’s  _ so  _ ready for this that he can and  _ will  _ start to cry if he thinks about it for too long. Currently, Steve is rubbing his feet after the big party now that everyone’s gone to their own homes and while Bucky sometimes wants to go crazy with how overbearing his Alpha husband can be, he loves him so much that he swears he can explode (and given how big he is, it’s a high possibility). 

“Mom, that cake was so good,” he says out loud as his mom walks into the room. She has his baby sister, Ruthie, on her hip and she’s wide-eyed as she sucks on her pacifier. “Where did you say you ordered it from again?” 

“Your aunt’s bakery,” she answers. “She made the cookies, too.” 

Ooh, those had been good too. He just knew he’d be making take trips downtown to pick up sweets when the cravings hit. And by ‘he’ he meant Steve. 

He rubs his hands down his stomach and presses gently against the spot where  _ someone  _ is kicking against him as if he’s a punching bag. He has a strong hunch that he knows just which one it is. 

_ Oh _ ! And another thing. He’s having twins! 

Considering he himself is a twin, it wasn’t that big of a shock, but it was still a surprise nonetheless that instead of having one baby, he would be bringing  _ two  _ into this world. Everything would be double the work-- double the love-- and him and Steve were so  _ ready  _ for them. Their  _ boys _ , as the ultrasound detected time after time since his twelve week check-up. There was no way to determine their designation until they were born but one of the babies was a bit larger than the other and it just so happened to be that big boy was the one that was always trying to punch his way out of Bucky’s stomach. Like now. 

He sighs as he tries to soothe the babies, smiling at the feel of them. Steve catches him doing it and leans forward to do the same, before leaning down and kissing Bucky’s stomach. “You’re going to have to roll me home, honey. I’m exhausted,” he tells Steve, reaching out and running his fingers through his mate’s hair. 

Steve gives his stomach another kiss before standing up and helping Bucky up. “Then let’s get you home. And right to bed. Your doctor told you to rest.” 

“I’ve barely been off the couch because you won’t let me.” 

“Listen to the man,” his mom says. “Omegas with strong Alpha support have better risk odds at delivery.” 

“Yes, I know,” he responds, shooting a look at his own Alpha. “I get told at least three times a day. Someone doesn’t let me out of his sight.” 

They say their goodbyes and head home to their house that is actually only two streets down from his parents. It’s not as grand as the house he grew up in, but it’s still fairly large that it echoes in certain places that haven’t been filled up all the way and there’s three extra bedrooms that they can use for their expanding family in the future, along with a nice big yard and garage that holds Steve’s motorcycle, Steve’s Camaro, and Bucky’s more suitable Land Rover. 

All of their gifts from the baby shower stay packed away in the trunk and they’ll--  _ Steve--  _ will take it all out and get it sorted tomorrow morning. 

Two weeks later, they get the call that Clint goes into labor. They’re supposed to be having a girl but Nat said the doctors weren’t absolutely sure so there were no certainties. Still, they all pile into the waiting room where he sits with Steve and Nat’s sister, Yelena, who kicks up her feet on a spare chair and loudly slurps her black coffee. 

“Do pregnant people pee their pants?” Yelena asks him while they pass the magazines back and forth. He’s forgotten how long babies take to be born. He thinks he’s already read this issue today. 

“No, why?” 

She points at his pants. 

He looks down. “Huh. My water must have broken.” But then he’s jolting in his chair and grabbing at Steve but Steve is already up and panicking and shouting for the nurses and doctors and anyone else within hearing distance. Everyone rushes around him while another few try to calm his husband down but considering he’s early, Steve has every right to fuss and hover over him like an overgrown koala. 

And him? He’s feeling great. Better than that. He feels like he’s flying and it has nothing to do with the drugs he’s been doped up on. Never once does Steve leave his side. 

It has to be a few hours later when another nurse pokes her head in. “Clint and Natasha delivered a healthy baby girl. She wanted your patient to know that their babies are going to have the same birthday.” 

That certainly is something, alright. 

Now it’s just his turn to deliver his babies, too. 

At his permission they eventually give him something that they promise will speed things up a little but also makes things get foggy. One second Steve is right there talking to him, bending down and kissing his head, and the next, things get blurred. He’s awake, but not awake. Asleep but not asleep. 

The next time he’s lucid and aware of his surroundings, there are two bassinets, both of them empty, next to his bed. He’s confused for only a second until he turns his head and sees Steve watching him with a smile on his face and a baby in each arm. 

God, the man is devastatingly beautiful. And he’s all Bucky’s. 

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive, Bucky,” Steve tells him. 

It has to be the aftereffects of the drugs when he chokes on a little cry. He shakes his head. “That’s impossible, Stevie, because you’ve made  _ me  _ the happiest man alive.” 

Steve brings both of their babies to the bed and arranges them all to fit together, one baby in Steve’s hand, the other in Bucky’s. They’re both wrapped in blue and like the ultrasound showed, one of their sons is larger than the other. All throughout the pregnancy, they nicknamed him ‘big boy’ but ever since Steve suggested the name Warden, it’s stuck in the back of his head. It’s definitely not common and has a classier ring to it. Looking down at his son in Steve’s arm, he already knows it’s set especially once Steve says it outloud, “Hi there, Warden. Wanna meet your papa?” 

Seeing a full grown man hold a baby is definitely a life changing experience, but hearing a full grown man coo at a baby? Jesus. If the doctors hadn’t told him no sex until he was all healed, he’d have riden Steve into tomorrow. And then some. 

The size difference is what makes their sons so easily distinct from one another because apart from that, they’re identical. They have soft brown hair on top of their heads and even though they’re fast asleep, Steve tells him they both have his eyes. The perfect blend of them both. 

“And how about you, little one?” he tilts his head down to the baby in his own arms. “Are you our sweet Henry?” They’d both agreed on the names beforehand but they both agreed that they wouldn’t make any decisions until their sons were placed in their arms. He meets Steve’s gaze and they share a knowing look of agreement. They both smile. “Well, hello to you too, Henry.” 

They’re so perfect. Is it even possible to be this happy? He can’t control the tears that spill from his eyes, but at least he’s not alone. His big, strong Alpha husband is wiping the tears off of his own cheeks, too. Steve kisses Warden, then Henry, then Bucky himself. “Who would have thought a pot holder salesman from New York and Karaoke champion could make this work.” 

He snorts softly, rolling his eyes, before leaning further into Steve’s side. He captures Steve’s lips and there may be two newborn babies present in the room but it doesn’t stop them from deepening their kiss and swapping spit like the crazy in-love husbands that they are. 

When they break for air, Steve keeps them close, pressing their foreheads together. “We’re a family now,” he breathes out against Steve, watching how the words trickle across Steve’s face and make him smile so beautifully. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “A family.” 

***

_ Four Years Later _

“Where is your brother?” he asks Warden after his son comes out of the bathroom from brushing his teeth. 

Warden points past him. “Reading nook.” 

Bucky sighs. Where else would Henry be? “Okay,” he nods. “Go get your pajamas on and we’ll read The Night Before Christmas in a few minutes.” 

“And Santa will come?” 

“After you’re asleep he sure will,” he tells him and like a flash of lightning Warden dashes down the hall toward his room as Bucky goes to the cupboard under the stairs and finds his other son. Where Henry pretty much always is. Only tonight, his Daddy is in there with him. 

“What are you two up to?” he asks, pretending he doesn’t see the cookie crumbs all over their blanket fort. His husband, the biggest kid in their house, gets worse at Christmas. Somehow he’s become even more crazier than Bucky’s mom once the holidays kick in. And now that their kids are four, Steve’s having even more fun since they understand more and Santa stopped making them cry. He wouldn’t dare begrudge him for his fun, either. 

Eventually they get the kids settled on their laps for their tradition of reading the Santa book. They both love the wonder shining in their eyes. He also loves the spark he sees in Steve’s eyes, too. The sooner they get the kids to sleep, the sooner they get to work on making another baby. 

Tucking the twins in is easier tonight more than ever because they are aware that only sleeping children get presents, but it’s a good hour before he’s sure they are actually asleep. 

“Is it time?” Steve asks. 

“It’s time.” 

The world tilts as he finds himself slung over Steve’s shoulder like Santa’s sack of presents. Steve’s slapping his ass the whole way into their room until he tosses him into the middle of their bed. “Gonna put a baby in you tonight, Mr. Rogers.” 

Steve kisses down his neck, scraping his beard across Bucky’s collarbone because it’s always been his kryptonite. 

Off go their clothes in a rapid blur. He wants his man. He wants Steve inside him. He loves the way Steve fills him up. Steve just likes to drive him insane first. 

He turns his head when Steve goes at his neck, sucking and biting and nibbling him there. 

When he opens his eyes, he sees the picture of them on the nightstand. It’s from their honeymoon before they had the twins. They’re on a beach, in all white, and it’s one of his most favorite. Right alongside the picture of the two of them with their newborn babies. How they got here sometimes doesn’t even feel real. The amount of love that Steve gives him isn’t something he ever envisioned himself achieving, something he didn’t think was possible. Not to mention the fact that Steve never judges him when he has those days that he goes to his own reading nook, though they call it an office, and it’s pretty much the contents of his old apartment where he goes for solitude. The rest of their house is filled with all of the things they’ve purchased together. 

And the sex. 

_ Oh my God.  _

They have sex all the time. Often when they shouldn’t. He’s become insatiable and has heard absolutely zero complaints because of it. He just needs Steve all the time. And it feels so good to know that it’s okay. That it’s safe for him to love Steve that much. To love his cock that much, too. 

Steve grabs Bucky’s hips and picks him up so that he’s on all fours, reaching between his legs and touching against Bucky’s most sacred area. “So wet already, baby. Just for me, right?” Steve’s on his knees behind him, running his hands up and down Bucky’s back. “Look at you. My Omega, so ready to be fucked. All  _ mine _ .” He presses his cock against Bucky’s and rubs them together. Then, he runs his rock hard dick up and down between Bucky’s ass cheeks, getting it nice and slick. 

He moans, pushing back against Steve and lowering his head. Their favorite position is always face to face, when they can see each other come undone, but presenting like this always has Steve going feral in the most delicious of ways. “Please,” he begs, “please, Stevie, I’m all yours. Just yours. I need you. Need your cock. Need to be fucked.” 

He arches his hips, needing more contact. Steve drags his cock across Bucky’s taint again. “Oh, yeah, baby. That’s it, Buck. Get my cock all slick so I can fuck you so good. Gonna put another baby in you.” 

He almost loses it when Steve enters just the tip into him, and he tries to push further back, but Steve grabs his hips and holds him in place. He whines. “Please,” he whimpers, “please, I need more.” 

“Hush,” he says. “I have to focus. I can’t just pound your sweet ass, baby. I need to take care of you. Make sure you don’t get hurt.” He kisses down Bucky’s spine as he notches himself at Bucky’s opening. Slowly, ever so slowly, Steve eases in like it’s their first time, like he always does because he likes to watch Bucky’s expression as he pushes in, even though he’s not really watching Bucky’s face right now. Still, it’s an amazing feeling to feel every inch of Steve as he fills him, stretches him. Steve doesn’t pull back, but he pushes in a bit more and Bucky’s inner muscles squeeze around him. “ _ Fuck _ , Bucky. Ease up. I’m trying to make this last.” 

He looks over his shoulder at his mate. “Fuck me hard and fast, Alpha. I want to be sore everywhere. I want to feel this for days.” 

Steve’s eyes darken, and he grabs a fistful of Bucky’s hair. “I love you so goddamn much.” He tugs hard, pulling Bucky’s hair as Steve rears into him hard. Then again. Then again. And then it’s not slow or measured. Their bodies are slapping hard, and soon enough Steve’s finding that spot inside of him that has him shouting out in blinding pleasure.

His legs start buckling, so Steve wraps an arm around him for support and starts thrusting faster. Harder. Stars explode inside of him, his ass spasming around Steve. Neither of them are even touching his cock, yet he’s coming and turning into a quivering mess. 

Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s it. Come around my cock just like that. You’re going to squeeze the come out of me, aren’t you? You want that baby bad, huh?” Steve’s fingers dig into him hard, and he can feel his Alpha’s knot starting to form. 

The bed lets out an alarming creak as Steve slams his cock in hard. The sound of flesh against flesh fills the room, along with Bucky’s moans and whimpers. And then his husband gets lost in a frenzy of desire. “This was what I was made for, pounding your sweet little ass. Made just for you.” Steve grabs his hips tight, pushing in hard and deep until the knot pushes past Bucky’s sphincter and inflates to its full size inside of him, filling him the way only his Alpha husband can. 

Steve’s release is no gentle thing. It’s furious and primal when Steve comes, lasting forever, more intense and powerful than their normal sessions of love making. This borderlines on being animalistic. And he fucking  _ loves  _ it. 

They collapse, a tangle of limbs and sticky love, unable to part until nature is done with them. A small nap later, they go downstairs for leftover pizza, and they put out the gifts from Santa and fill the stockings. Steve has gotten some silver at his temples, and it catches the light from their Christmas tree, and just like that, he needs Steve all over again. He can’t explain it, the way he loves Steve’s laugh lines and his gray hairs. 

But his ass clenches, and he’s already setting out to seduce his husband again. 

He takes the few steps to cross the distance between them and opens Steve’s robe, to his husband’s surprise, and kisses his way down Steve’s body. This time, he’s going to get Steve in his mouth for a while. Steve’s starting to get hard so Bucky is able to take more of his cock in his mouth than usual. When Steve is fully erect, Bucky can barely take half his length, but for now, he enjoys the velvety texture of the cock in his mouth. The cock that he  _ owns _ . The cock that belongs just to him and no one else, and he can have it whenever he wants. 

He loves that Steve swipes Bucky’s loose hair away from his face and looks him in the eye while Bucky sucks him off. But at the last minute, just when he thinks he’s got Steve exactly where he wants him and Steve’s losing control of his own hips, Steve gets him on his back on the floor before he knows what’s going on. 

“Did you forget that I’m breeding you tonight, Mr. Rogers?” Bucky’s still open and ready from earlier so Steve is able to press in without doing too much damage. Once he’s seated all the way inside Bucky and Steve’s thrusting, their bodies slap together in a rhythmic, sensational flow. 

“You’re such a family man now,” he muses. “For someone who never even wanted kids--” 

Steve shuts him up with a kiss. “I love the way you look when you’re pregnant. I love knowing everyone who sees you knows you’re mine. I love everything you’ve given me in the last four years, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you every day just how much I love you.” 

He wraps his legs around Steve tighter, pulling Steve into him as much as he can. And then they have no more use of words. And when Steve pumps the last of his seed into him, Bucky pulls Steve’s head to his chest and holds him there, under the lights of their Christmas tree. In their home where everyone feels safe, important, and wanted. Where it’s okay to be alone in a room full of people but to never actually feel lonely. 

A place that’s finally, truthfully home.  _ Their  _ home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear from you guys! Catch me over on tumblr @ lordelannette

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me over on tumblr! -lordelannette


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